Perfect Stranger
by mandycullen
Summary: Journalist Bella Swan goes undercover to ferret out Edward Masen's company, posing as his personal assistant. Only she didn't expect him to change her views on right and wrong. AH, AU, extremely OOC. BPOV.
1. Day 1 , Part I

**This story is loosely based on the 2007 movie, "Perfect Stranger", directed by James Foley and written by Jon Bokenkamp. Very, very loosely based. More like inspired by that movie.**

_**Disclaimer**_**: I don't own Twilight or any of its characters.**

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><p><strong>Trailer for this story on YouTube:<strong>

** watch?v=U9J7wvJVzuU**

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><p>"So what's your story?" Jasper Whitlock asked me for the hundredth time.<p>

"If anyone asks, I quit my last job as a secretary because my boss tried to feel me up," I repeated my memorized line, handing the cabdriver the fare money. "Keep the change," I said and got out.

"Good," Jasper said. "Everything will be alright, Bella. Your fake résumé got you hired already, didn't it? The hardest part is behind us now."

"I'm not worried, Jasper. I usually leave that part to you," I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn't see it through the cellphone.

"Okay, that's good. Now remember, keep your eyes on the prize. This story will launch our careers," he said.

"Of course. Besides, as responsible journalists, it's our duty to expose Masen Developers for the environment-harming monsters they are, isn't it?"

"You bet," he snickered. "Now go get those sharks, Swan."

"I will, Whitlock," I said and snapped my cell shut, shoving it back inside my Prada purse. I wiped imaginary dust off my black Calvin Klein pencil skirt, adjusted my white blouse, and walked toward one of the tallest buildings in Manhattan, where I'd spend the next months working in.

Probably not a good idea for someone who feared heights, especially since I'd be working in one of the uppermost floors. I'd just have to deal with it, though, because there was no way I was willing to pass up this story when my editor chief offered it to Jasper and me.

You see, Masen Developers, one of the biggest real estate development companies in the country, has recently purchased the 250 acres of land that sit above the Twilight Wetlands. What are the Twilight Wetlands? Simply the largest coast of wetlands in the state of California, home of the purple pelican and, my personal favorite, something called the pink swamp rose - both endangered.

The Twilight Wetlands are the key to water quality in the county, and, not to mention, they're kind of pretty, attracting hundreds of tourists every year. So, naturally, they must be destroyed by a bunch of rich people who want to build condos, shopping centers, and even a bloody golf course.

I'm not a tree-hugging crusader, I admit, but I think tearing down the wetlands is outraging. It's like selling off the rainforest to profit a few wealthy individuals and asking generations and generations of others to pay for it.

So when the president and founder of Masen Developers, Charles Masen, stepped down from his position and left the company in the hands of his only son - shortly after buying the wetlands - it gave us the perfect opportunity to infiltrate the company. The Masen boy, Edward, is only twenty-three and bound to be less experienced than his father at managing the company's businesses. It came as a huge shock when Charles Masen renounced, due to severe lung cancer. That was a month ago, and I remember covering that story. Masen was advised to leave the position to someone more experienced than his son, but he would not have it.

And _that_ brings me here now, as Edward Masen's new personal assistant. My job is to find out the details of the plans for the Twilight Wetlands. We'll publish them all, expose the company, and, who knows, maybe even bring down MD. This will surely be a policy-changing, career-making story, and I'm oh-so eager for it.

I had to take two elevators to reach my destined goal: floor 108. The first trip took me to floor 56, and from there, I had to take another one to reach MD's level. When I finally reached my destination, I got off the elevator and went past the glass doors that greeted me, always trying to keep my eyes away from the many windows that lined the exterior wall. Okay, here I am. Now I have to pull my act together.

"Good morning," I smiled at the woman who sat behind a huge counter, with the words MASEN REAL ESTATE DEVELOPMENT on a light marble panel behind her. She looked a few years older than I was, 30 maybe, and beautiful with her cascading blonde hair and baby-blue eyes. "It's my first day here. I'm Isabella Swan."

"Oh, hey there," she smiled nicely, showing perfect white teeth, and stood up from her chair. "I'm Rosalie King," she introduced herself, coming around the counter at me and extending a hand, which I politely shook. "We've been waiting for you. Come with me."

I followed her as she gave me a quick tour of the place, telling me what I'd most likely need to do and where to find things. "You know, I think you'll be perfect for the job. The other people interviewed didn't have such a flawless record. Or so I heard," she told me.

"Thanks," I smiled. "I hope this works out better than my last job."

"Did something happen there?" Rosalie asked.

"Well…" I paused, getting into character. "My last boss didn't respect my personal space, if you know what I mean." I sighed and said, "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Oh, poor thing," she patted my shoulder lightly. "But you don't have to worry, Edward is a wonderful person."

"Edward?" I questioned. "Are you two close?"

She laughed, "Oh, no, it's nothing like that! I'm happily married." She raised her left hand and showed me a ring. "I thought it was weird, too, when he asked that we all call him by his first name, Mr. Masen never gave us that liberty, but you'll get used to it. We all did."

We reached another set of glass double doors, which Rosalie opened to reveal a large room with more windows overlooking the city. "Here's where you'll spend most of your time," she pointed at a desk right in front of the windows, "And there's Edward's office," she pointed to yet another set of closed double doors at the end of the room, but these ones were made of what seemed to be hardwood.

"Now I have to go back to work. Just knock on his door and introduce yourself. Let me know if you need something, okay?" she said.

"Okay, thank you, Rosalie," I smiled.

"Oh, please, call me Rose," she smiled back and patted my shoulder for the second time that morning. "And relax, dear. I know you're nervous, but you'll have no problems here. Everyone's really nice."

I nodded and felt my cheeks start to throb when I forced myself to smile again. "Thanks for everything, Rose."

"No problem, Isabella," she turned around and left.

When I was alone in the room, I took my time to analyze it. The floor wasn't the pristine wood I'd seen everywhere else, it was a white carpet that muffled the sounds of my heels when I walked. The walls, where not made of windows, were painted white. I dared to steal a glance at the windows and decided the view would be pretty - if it weren't nauseating.

"Beautiful, huh?" I jerked my head when I heard the voice, only to find Edward Masen standing there, the wooden doors that led to his office now opened.

"Yes, very," I nodded. "I'm Isabella Swan," I walked towards him, my hand extended in front of me.

He was lean, and taller than I expected, about 6' 2", dwarfing my 5' 6". His smile was stunning; it lit up not only his impossibly green eyes, but his whole face. His hair was an unusual copper color, and gelled to perfection. He wore gray dress pants and a white button-down shirt, rolled up at the sleeves to show the creamy skin of his forearms…

"I figured," his voice snapped me out of my analysis. I'd seen millions of pictures of this man, I knew he was handsome, but nothing could've prepared me for the real-life him. He was utterly drop-dead gorgeous. "I'm Edward."

He took my outstretched hand and shook it. His hand was really warm, I noticed, like he'd been bathing in midday sunlight for the last hour. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Masen."

"You people and your formality," he chuckled. "My father always told me that calling people by their last name is a sign of respect, but I don't understand that. I'd like you to call me Edward, Isabella. Please. Mr. Masen makes me sound old."

I couldn't help but laugh softly. "Whatever you say, sir."

He smiled again, and his face lit up once more. "How do you like it here?" he asked, motioning to the carpeted room. "We didn't change it since the last woman who worked here decorated it, and, since you'll be working in here, you might want to give it your personal touch."

"It looks nice," I said, looking around again at the various abstract paintings that hung from the walls.

"Okay," he clamped his hands together and exhaled loudly, "So I'll be back there in my office if you have any questions or need anything at all… alright?"

"Alright," I nodded. We stood there for an almost awkward moment before he gave a little laugh and went into his office, closing the doors behind him.

I finally let myself relax as I made my way to my desk. It wasn't very big, but still bigger than the one I had at the newspaper. I also had my own iMac, with an exceedingly big screen. How nice was that_?_

I sunk back in my chair and resisted the urge to put my feet up on the table.

I have to admit, the Masen boy was charming. Hell, his looks alone probably had his employees flinging their panties at him. Edward Masen was your ordinary rich playboy, living off Daddy's money. Seriously, _'"Mr. Masen makes me sound old'"?_ This man would probably bring down his father's company all by himself. Poor Charles, fighting cancer and completely oblivious to the direction his golden boy was taking his baby.

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><p><strong>AN: I'm not sure I'm continuing this. It's an idea that's been swimming in my head since I watched the movie I mention on the **_**disclaimer**_**. The movie isn't even that good, but there's something about it that sticked with me. I think I'll just leave this in here for the moment - it's better than having it sit in my computer, isn't it? **


	2. Day 1 , Part II

**Disclaimer: You got that right - I don't own Twilight. I don't own Edward Cullen or Bella Swan either, but maybe a little bit of Edward Masen and Isabella Swan? Fine, fine, not even them.**

**A/N: I'm posting a link with the picture of Edward's office, and I'll post other pictures of places/people as they show up in the story! Just visit my profile if you're interested.**

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><p>About 10 minutes had gone by, and Edward Masen still hadn't left his office. I had tried to log into some chat-room to spend my time, but once I did, I found out the site was blocked. Can companies even do that? That's so controlling! Note to self: MD's workers suffer from slave labour. With no better task at hand, I started picking at my chipped blood-red nail polish.<p>

Almost all of it had been peeled off when the black phone at my desk started ringing.

I picked it and said, "Masen Developers, Isabella Swan speaking. May I help you?"

"Isabella, it's Rose. We just got some papers here for Edward to sign. Can you come pick them up?" a female voice answered.

"Okay," I said and hung up. Finally, something for me to do. I'd been beginning to think that they'd forgotten all about me. Not that acting as Masen's servant was cool, but that was in my job requirements. Removing all traces of my personality and keep a sweet, willing-to-serve facade. Boring as hell, but it would be worth it in the end, when I'd bring this company down. Can't come soon enough.

I got up and made my way to the front desk. Rosalie was sitting down, typing something in her computer, and talking to someone in a microphone headset thing. That's so unnecessary! Can't she hold the phone like normal people do? The black plastic around her head just made her look stupid. There was a yellow paper folder on top of the counter, and she looked at me and nodded when I took it.

I went back into my workplace and sat down on my chair, setting the folder on my desk. I had to take a look at it. What if I got lucky and it was the paperwork for the Twilight Wetlands' destruction? When I opened it, however, I found out it was actually some new building they were planning to build here in New York. I'd tear the paper into pieces if I didn't have to give it to Masen.

I sighed and went to his door, knocking 3 times. His muffled invite for me to come in came a moment later, and I opened the door.

_His office is much, much bigger than I expected,_ was my first thought. The floor was a greenish beige carpet, and there was a small living area to the right, with a 3-seat sofa and two chairs sitting across from it, a hardwood coffee table separating them. The carpet ended a few meters ahead, giving way to - _aha! _- pristine wooden floors, two steps above the carpeted level. The only thing there was his desk, right in the center, and a palm in a small vase. Who has a palm tree in their office? I hate rich people with their ridiculous fetishes.

_His office is nauseating,_ was my second impression of the place. And I thought _my_ workplace had too many windows. His office, unlike mine, didn't have white walls; it had no walls at all. The only things keeping us from stepping over the edge of the building and falling to our death were the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up said walls.

"Oh shit," I gave a strangled cry and dropped the folder I held to cover my mouth. My gut churned at the sight of the buildings far away, and I cursed the fact that I was standing on one of the highest points of Manhattan. Buildings covering this view old be so damn welcome at the moment.

"Isabella?" I heard Edward Masen call, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from the windows behind his desk. "Is something wrong?"

"I-I-it's," I stuttered, not able to form words properly. The churning in my gut increased when I tried to speak, and I lay a hand on the wall beside me to keep my balance. _It's so hot in here… I must be sweating buckets._

A felt a hand at my back, and Masen was suddenly there, pushing me toward the dark-brown sofa. I fell down on it, and let my head fall back over the edge of the seat. I was safe, on land, and I had to get over this stupid fear of heights. Why did they have to build this place? Did they run out of money for walls, so just threw in glass? And I'd heard that the designer of the building had fear of heights. Hah. My ass he did. Inconsiderate bastard.

"Here, have this," I heard Masen say. I opened eyes I didn't realise were closed, and saw him holding out a bottle of water. I took it, twisted the cap off, and slowly sipped it. When my stomach didn't protest, I chugged it down. It felt nice in my dry throat.

"Fear of heights?" he asked, sitting down on the sofa beside me.

"Yes," I admitted, but quickly asserted, "But I assure you, it won't get in the way of the job."

He smiled and shook his head, "I'm not worried about that, but it must be difficult for you, working here," he motioned around him. No shit, Sherlock.

"I'll live," I replied, then pushed myself off the couch, careful to keep my eyes down and look at my high-heeled shoes. I set the empty water bottle beside an ashtray on the coffee table and said, "Rosalie asked me to bring you that folder, sir." I hope he didn't hear the accusation in my voice.

I saw his black shoes move away from the couch, and I heard him walk back to his desk. Did the asshole expect me to neatly deliver it to him there, even after this display? Who does this fucking wanker think he is? Just because I'm his secretary doesn't mean he can treat me like an animal and play with my fears. I would report this man to… somebody… after my job here was done.

I heard a mechanical hum from all around me and the room gradually darkened. "It's safe to look up now," he said. I hesitated, but slowly lifted my head. He was holding a small remote control, having closed the automatic window shades. Oh.

I went back to the door, took the folder from the floor, and walked up the steps to his desk. "Here. I'm sorry, sir."

"You don't need to apologize, Isabella. I know how these things are," he lowered his voice, and, with a small smile, said, "I'm afraid of clowns."

I choked my laughter down but couldn't restrain my smile, "Really?"

"Really," he nodded seriously, then shuddered playfully. "How can someone not be?"

I chuckled and handed him the folder. "Do you need me for anything else, Mr. Masen?"

"No, that's all. Thank you, Isabella," he replied, walking round the desk and flopping down on his chair.

Nodding, I turned around and walked out of the office, closing the door behind me. I hope I don't have to go into the office often, because if I do, I fear I'll ruin everything by quitting and running out. And then hire a clown to pay Edward Masen a visit in his office.

The phone at my desk suddenly started to ring, and I ran to answer it. "Masen Developers, Isabella Swan speaking. May I help you?"

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><p>My digital watch beeped at 1 p.m., announcing my lunch break. Thank God. I had reached my limit. I'd already answered over 30 phone calls and redirected them to Masen. He never left his office, either. Was I supposed to bring him his lunch? PAs did that, didn't they? But what the hell was I supposed to bring him? He probably liked lobster and caviar and other expensive food. And I was absolutely <em>not<em> paying some guy's fancy food with my own money.

As if on cue, the door to his office opened and Masen stepped out. I stood up immediately and folded my arms behind my back, waiting for him to order me around.

Instead, he just looked at me with those sparking emerald eyes and waved a hand in the air. "You have permission to relax, soldier," he laughed. "It's time for your lunch break, right?"

I nodded, "Yes. Do you want me to bring your lunch, sir?" Maybe I could grind a couple of laxative tablets and mix them in his food. That would be interesting.

"Actually, I was wondering if I could join you for lunch," he said. "Would you mind that?"

"Yes. I mean, no, I wouldn't mind," I said. O-_kay_, that was unexpected. Wouldn't being seen having lunch with an employee embarrass him? I know Charles Masen would never have lunch with his secretary. He must've forgotten to teach his golden boy proper manners. Hmm… Maybe I could use that to my advantage. It was the perfect opportunity to get to know the man better and start to earn his trust.

I couldn't afford anything he undoubtedly was going to order, but I could say I wasn't hungry and buy a Happy Meal whilst pretending to go to the bathroom. Yeah, that would work. And then I could cover my purse in hamburger grease by trying to hide it in it. Oh joy.

"Brilliant," he smiled. "So where do you want to go?"

"Hmm…" I trailed off, thinking of somewhere he'd like to go. "We could go to one of the restaurants downstairs." I almost shuddered at my own suggestion, thinking about the hell I'd go through in one of the posh restaurants of the building. I hope he didn't choose the sea food one. Fancy sea food looks disgusting.

"Eh, I don't really fancy them," Masen said, surprising the hell out of me. "But you choose the place, so let's go."

"No, no! I was just trying to choose somewhere I could see someone like you frequent. I'm not particular about them," I admitted. "To be honest, I hate them."

He let out a relieved laugh, "Thank goodness. I've had enough of that type of food with my father. Now tell me, where would _you_ like to go? Forget about me, think about yourself."

"How about Japanese?" I suggested. It wasn't as ridiculous as suggesting we go to a McDonald's, but still affordable. Besides, I knew the perfect place.

"Sounds lovely," he said. "I don't know any Japanese restaurants, though, so it's in your hands."

"No problem, Mr. Masen."

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><p><strong>AN: I don't blame you if you hate Isabella. Just put yourself in her shoes before you judge her, though, okay?**

**Edward's fear of clowns here is based on something Robert said in an interview. He decided to be cute and pretend he witnessed a circus accident involving fire and a clown. That's Rob for you.**

**Remember, kids: I love getting reviews!**


	3. Day 1 , Part III

**Disclaimer: Own nothing, but I like to pretend I do. Don't deny it: you know you do, too.**

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><p>Masen and I left the building together. I thought that would earn us a few side glances from his employees, but it didn't. Masen called everybody we walked by by their first name and told them he was leaving for lunch with me. In the crowded elevator, I stared at the red numbers that represented the floors we were descending and wished the elevator would move faster. When I glanced at Masen, who was standing close enough to touch, from the corner of my eye, I caught him staring at me. I thought he'd look the other way - something most people would do - but he started talking.<p>

"Do elevators bother you, too?" he asked quietly.

I considered it. "Not exactly. The thought that they're lifting me so high off the ground bothers me. If it were just a couple of floors, I wouldn't care."

"Oh." I thought he was done talking then, and was about to start prodding him about the company and whatnot when he started again. "Is there a specific reason why you're scared of heights?"

"Um, should there be?"

"Well, sometimes a fear is triggered by some kind of trauma. For instance, when I was seven, I went to the circus for the first time and one of the clowns died. His little car exploded. I don't like them since then," he told me.

"Wow. That's a… horrible story, but I don't see how that would make you scared of them," I replied.

He shrugged. "It's not something I control, really. My father took me to specialists and to other circuses, but nothing worked. I'm a lost cause." The elevator doors slid open at we got out. "How about you?"

"I'm afraid of heights for as long as I can remember," I replied truthfully. "I never really stopped to think about why. It just is."

When we were outside, Masen asked where the restaurant we were going was. When I told him, he insisted that we take the subway instead of a cab. I hesitated, but agreed.

"Why not hail a cab? They're not that hard to find at this hour," I said as we descended the staircase leading to the subways.

"This way we can save money and the environment," he replied, taking out his wallet. Save the environment?_ Hypocrite, hypocrite, hypocrite!_ I felt like screaming at him. I'd have to remember to add this little quote of his in our article. I only realized I'd been staring at him with incredulity when he gave me a smile. Son of a bitch, I am so going to enjoy taking you down. Think you fool me with that nice-boy facade? You don't!

I was so busy throwing mental daggers at Masen that it didn't sink in that I needed a card until he'd already swiped his yellow MetroCard and gone through. "I need one of those," I huffed and turned around to buy one from the vending machine.

"You can use mine," he offered. At first, I wanted to turn him and his dirty money down, but then I figured I might as well use up as much of it as possible. I went back to him and he swiped the card once more, letting me go through.

"Thanks," I forced myself to smile.

"We can get a cab, if that's what you prefer," he suddenly said.

"Ah, this is fine," I said, going through the passage.

"You sure?" he pressed, "You look like you're going to be sick, Isabella."

"This is perfectly fine, Mr. Masen," I repeated. "Seriously. It's not like I never took the subway anyways."

"Okay then."

We arrived at the storefront that read _red orchid Japanese cuisine_ on a yellow awning a few minutes later. I guess riding the subway really did have its perks. It didn't make up for the fact that people in the train ogled at Masen and I during our ride, though. I'm not sure why, since we weren't the only people neatly dressed in the crowded train, but we'd earned a few hushed whispers and nudges from the other passengers. I even had to flip off a guy who sent winks my way. It was all due to Masen's popularity - he'd been in the paper for about a week when his father renounced, so people must've have recognized him as the millionaire businessman's son - and the attention rubbed off on me.

"This is a nice place," Masen idly commented as we went in. It wasn't crowded, but the few tables they had were all occupied. "We can sit over there," he continued, pointing to the counter where the cooks were making the food.

We went over to the counter and sat on adjacent stools. I didn't bother to get one of the menus over the counter because I knew what I'd order.

"Hello," a pretty asian waitress came to us, holding a pen and a notepad in her hands. "Would you like to order your drinks?" she asked, looking at Masen.

"I'll have a Coke," he said. The waitress didn't write it down, and turned to face me.

"I'll have a Diet one," I said.

"Alright, I'll be right back," she walked off.

Acutely aware of the uncomfortable silence between us, I struggled to find a topic to start very necessary filler small talk. Masen let me off the hook when he beat me to it.

"So, Isabella, you've worked at many other companies before coming to us, right? The last one was a pretty big deal… Why'd you quit?" he asked.

He just had to pick the hardest question first, hadn't he? Lucky for me, I was a great actress. "Well…" Nervous hesitation, "… My last boss made me uncomfortable… he didn't respect my personal space… He…" Swallows fictional lump from throat, "… _Touched_ me." I looked up at Masen from under my lashes, and even felt my eyes flood with tears. Damn, I deserve an Oscar. "Please don't make me say anything else, Mr. Masen."

He jumped up from his seat and flung his arms towards me. I stilled, thinking he was going to give me some kind of comfort hug, but then he sat back down, eyeing me warily. When he spoke, he sounded outraged. "That's horrible, Isabella. Please tell me you got his ass in prison for that! Or at least a huge sum of money."

I shook my head slowly, "No. Honestly, I just want to put that all behind me. Taking legal action will only draw out painful memories."

"But that's not right," he protested, "Someone like that doesn't deserve to go about unpunished after doing that."

"It's not like he raped me or anything…" I sighed and wiped a tear that spilled down my cheek. "This is my choice, and I want to let it all go." I looked up at him and added, "Please respect that."

He didn't say anything, just bit the inside of his cheek for a moment. "Okay," he finally replied. "But I don't agree with that."

"Here are your drinks," the waitress said, setting down two glasses and cans of Coke in front of us. "Are you ready to order?"

"Yeah, I want two salmon temakis," I said. The waitress quickly scribbled that down and turned to face Masen.

"I'll have three of those," he said. She nodded and left. As soon as we were alone, he added, "I have to admit: I've never had these. I'm totally trusting your taste here."

I raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You've never had a hand roll, or you've never had Japanese food?"Both scenarios were kind of hard to believe. One would think rich daddy would've taken his little boy to eat every possible type of food. He was probably just trying to make me feel somehow special. It didn't work, let me tell you.

"Er, both. I'm not a fish fan, but then again, I've never had it raw," he said.

"If you're not a fish fan, why did you tag along?" I restrained my urge to roll my eyes. He could've just told me where he wanted to go. Now he was going to whine at the raw food when it came.

He shrugged and poured his Coke into his glass, "Just thought I'd try something new."

"You didn't have to go out of your way to accompany me, sir," I said, pouring soda into my glass, too, and taking a sip.

"Nah, that's nothing. I want you to feel comfortable with me, since we'll hopefully be working together for a long time. A first step would be you stop calling me 'sir', but I know that'll come with time," he smiled and I had to look away to stop myself from getting distracted. A plan was starting to form in my mind.

"Mm, sir? Since you've already asked me a question about my former job, would it be… okay… for me to ask you something back?" I risked.

"Sure. That could actually be something fun. Go ahead."

How awesome am I? Very awesome, Bella! Yeah, I'm aware. "Okay…" I had to start slowly, cover all my bases. "What happened to the last woman who worked in my place?"

"Well," he started, "Her name was Martha, and she worked for my father for over five years. When he put me in the business, she quit."

"Why?" I asked.

"That makes two questions," he shook his head with a smile. "You'll have to wait till the next round if you really want to know."

"Fine," I agreed.

"Why did you want this job?"

Goodie, Jasper and I had already practiced this answer. When I spoke, I tried to add as much enthusiasm to my words as I could. "Because this is not just a job to me. This is what I love, this is what I'm good at. When I was thirteen, at summer camp, all the other kids would go down to the lake and I would be asking the guides if I could help them plan the next day's schedule or if they needed me to do anything. And even before, at eleven, I was visiting my dad at the police station and bringing him doughnuts. I guess what I'm getting at is that helping people do a greater good is all I know, and everything I love, and I wanted this job because… well, because I can't imagine ever doing anything else."

He didn't immediately say anything when I was done speaking, just gazed at me with those piercing green eyes of his, like he was searching my brown ones for something. Just as I was starting to worry that he might've seen through my glorious acting, he said, "Wow, I've never met someone who believed in what they're doing as much as you do. That last guy you worked for doesn't know what he's lost."

"Thank you," I mumbled, and found myself smiling a little genuine smile. "So why did Martha quit after you took over, Mr. Masen?"

"I don't know if you're aware, but there have been many… objections… to my assuming the presidency of Masen Developers. Even _I_ didn't completely feel comfortable handling such a large company all by myself. There's so much at stake, you know? But my father wouldn't listen to anyone, he wanted me to have it. Since we play the hand we're dealt, here I am," he stopped speaking as our waitress stopped beside our stools, carrying two small red trays.

"Your orders," she announced, setting the trays on the counter in front of us. "Would you like another Coke?" she asked Masen, who had apparently finished his entire can.

"Yes, thank you," he replied, and looked down at the three hand rolls on his tray. "Ah, Isabella, I think you'll have to teach me how to not make a fool out of myself whilst eating this."

"It's not brain surgery," I said. "Watch me." I took the one of the hand rolls in my hand, the small soy sauce glass container, and poured the dark brown liquid over the top. I then put the container down and took a bite of the temaki.

Masen copied me, only he dipped the soy sauce way too much, and liters of it spilled from the bottom of the roll. It splattered onto his tray and droplets of dark brown flew to his white shirt, staining it. He muttered something under his breath but took a bite of his food anyway, ignoring the mess. I watched him chew - _chew_! - and swallow it, waiting for the moment when he would spit the rice and seaweed out. It didn't come, however, to my pleasant surprise. "I don't know if I like it or not," he admitted at my raised eyebrow. "I'll decide after I'm done eating."

"So, continuing the story," he spoke around a bite of the hand roll, "Martha felt that my father's giving me his place in the company was - and I quote her - outraging. So she said she'd quit if he did it… I think she thought that my father would hesitate after that because she knew so many - and I quote her again - secrets of our business, but he didn't. She carried through with her threat, in the end."

Martha. Hm, I'd have to ask Rosalie King about her later, maybe find out where the woman lived. I bet she'd give a good testimony against MD. She might even know something about the Twilight Wetlands project, since it was Charles Masen who started it.

"Your Coke," our waitress set the can in front of Masen and walked off.

"My turn now," he stated. "Why did you choose us? I mean, with a curriculum like yours, you could've made it into somewhere bigger than us."

I shrugged. "I've heard that your company is growing really quickly, and I'd rather be part of something like that than one that's already in a rut."

"Fair enough," he nodded. "Go ahead."

I swallowed a bite of my food and asked, "Why did your father renounce his place, sir? I've read it somewhere that he is fighting cancer, but couldn't he continue working meanwhile? I'm really sorry for that, by the way."

"My father was diagnosed with lung cancer about an year ago, but he told no one - not even me. When I noticed something was wrong with him, he finally told me. Last month, the doctor decided that the best option was to move my father to a hospital to have daily chemotherapy sessions. He didn't want to go, but I couldn't let him not try something," he gave a shaky sigh and sipped his drink.

* * *

><p>We were back at Masen Developers by 2:30 p.m., and even though I knew I was running a little late, no one dared to comment. Perks of hanging out with the boss.<p>

The rest of the day ran painfully slowly, with me answering endless phone calls, taking folders to various different people, asking Masen for signatures, and making photocopies of papers. I had no time to snoop around whatsoever. By the end of my shift, at 6 p.m., I was even more eager to leave than when I was at the newspaper.

I took a cab to my apartment - which wasn't that far away from the building - in Lower Manhattan, and found Jasper waiting for me. He was sitting on the floor near my door, his face framed by his longish black hair. "You took your time, didn't you, Swan? Another 15 minutes, and I would have called the cops and told them to search the city dumpsters because that Edward Masen guy had murdered you."

I laughed and brought my keys to the lock, opening the door to my small, but homey, apartment. When I say small, I really mean small - the apartment is composed of a small entrance hall and two rooms - only one being a bedroom -, one minuscule bathroom with shower and a equally small balcony. My bedroom has a double bed sofa, which is perfect because I can just use the space as a living room to watch TV. The non-bedroom room has a kitchenette, which is fairly useless considering I've never cooked a day in my life. That was my dad's task, when he was still alive. I guess it's the mother's task to teach her daughter how to do those kinds of things. Too bad mine left me and ran off with some guy when I was three.

"So how were things at work?" Jasper asked me, hanging his coat on the hangers near the door.

"Terrible," I sighed. "Fortunately, I got a name."

"What's that?" he asked.

"Martha. She was Charles Masen's secretary for five years."

"Ooh, I smell victory. What happened?"

"Tell you later. First, I need to get out of these clothes. They've been bothering me all day."

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><p><strong>AN: Pictures of Bella's apartment on my profile!**

**Reviews are the fuel to my story-writing engine! :D**


	4. Day 2

**A/N: I don't own Twilight, but I do own my own pot of white frosting!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

The next day I woke up extra early so I could catch Rosalie King before I had to retire to my boring "office". That was a particular painful thing to do considering Jasper and I had a little to drink the night before. Okay, possibly more than a little. Anyways, my head was killing me and the sun was blinding me.

"Good morning," I greeted Rosalie when I saw her. She was leaning against the front desk, drinking something from Starbucks and chatting with a short, dark-haired woman.

"Oh, good morning, dear! Alice, this is Isabella, Edward's new PA. Isabella, this is Alice. She's one of the interns," Rosalie introduced us, motioning to the short woman.

"Nice to meet you," I said, giving her a once over. She stood at about my shoulder height, even though she was wearing 5-inch heels - but then again, so was I. Her eyes were a cute cornflower blue, and contrasted nicely with her fair skin, which was similar to my own. Her hair was short, sticking out in every direction, and jet black. Her makeup with perfectly done, making her look like a small porcelain doll.

"Hi!" she grinned, knocking the hand I had extended towards her away and bouncing forward to kiss my cheek. When she pulled back, I knew my mouth was hanging open in shock. Invasion of personal space much?

Rosalie laughed, "Alice, you've made the poor girl uncomfortable! Sorry, Isabella, that's just how our Alice works."

"I'm just excited to meet someone my age. Rose, you're awesome, but having a non-married girlfriend would be so great," Alice explained. "How old are you, Isa?"

"I'm 26. Um, and I'd rather you didn't call me that, please." I hated that nickname since grade school, and there was no way I was putting up with it in my workplace. The way things worked around here, Masen would be calling me that in no time.

"Well, we need a nickname for you, don't we?" Alice said.

"You can call me Bella, then," I told her. That was what Jasper called me, and anything was better than being called Isa.

"It suits you," Rosalie smiled.

"Bella it is!" Alice grinned. "Well, Bella, I'm 25 and glad you're here now. I wanted to meet you yesterday, but you and Edward left for lunch together, didn't you?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Where did you go?" she asked.

"Japanese restaurant," I said.

"How was it?" she asked.

"Good. He paid the bill."

"Oh, come on, you gotta give us more than that," she complained, then looked around as if checking the area. When she saw that no one was close enough to hear her, she giggled. "He's completely delicious, isn't he?"

I found myself genuinely laughing and nodding. "He is," I agreed.

"Girls," Rosalie shook her head, smiling and clicking her tongue at us. "Tsk tsk tsk. That's no way to think of the boss."

"Oh, come on, tell me you don't agree," Alice challenged her.

"I'm a married woman…" Rosalie hesitated and Alice slapped her shoulder lightly, "But I admit to sometimes wishing I'd met him years back."

"I knew it!" Alice laughed. "No one is immune to Edward's charm."

"He's most likely a man-whore, though," I said before I could stop myself. Then I looked around just like Alice had before. No one had heard me, good.

Both women stopped laughing then, and Rosalie spoke with a low voice, her tone hinting at… sadness? "Not our Edward. Works hard, that one. Ever since he came here, he's always working overtime, and most nights even sleeps in his office."

"Why?" I frowned.

"Because of his dad, of course," Alice replied in a louder voice.

"_Alice_," Rosalie reprimanded in a hushed voice and shook her head at her. Alice looked down and Rosalie continued, "Mr. Masen's condition really shook Edward. You had to see him before the news - he wanted nothing to do with this place. He wanted to be a musician - he graduated from Juilliard, you know. Now he's all about the work, I don't think he even plays anymore."

"What does he play?" I asked, more out of curiosity than necessity. He must be really good if he got into Juilliard.

"I know he plays the guitar, the piano, and that he sings really well," Alice replied, whispering now, too. "He has an Artist Diploma in Music Performance, which is only for the people who are really, _really_ good. He would probably be a pop star if he weren't working here."

"As if pop stars nowadays have Julliard degrees," I snorted. "He'd probably be an opera singer, a high-end pianist, or in an orchestra or something."

Rosalie nodded. "It's heartbreaking how hard that boy works to please his father. Mr. Masen was right when he gave him the company. But on the other hand, the poor lad isn't living properly."

"I couldn't tell that," I frowned. "And I'm usually good at reading people."

"That's because Edward puts up a good front," Rosalie said. "He's a strong man."

A few more people were entering the place by then and we stopped gossiping on Masen. Alice left us with a demand that the three of us have lunch together and I remembered why I had arrived early for.

"Rosalie, I was meaning to ask you something," I said as she dumped her Starbucks cup and made her way to her place behind the front desk. She looked up at me curiously and I went for it. "I was wondering if you knew how I can contact the woman who worked for Mr. Masen's father? Martha, I think her name is."

Rosalie creased her forehead. "Why would you want to contact that horrible lady?"

"You don't like her?" I asked.

"You know how she threatened Mr. Masen, don't you?" I nodded. "So you know why she's not very popular here. It was very unprofessional of her."

I almost mentioned that calling your boss by their first name isn't very professional either, but just let it go. "Well, I wanted to talk to her to know more about how I should work. I mean, she was with Mr. Masen for 5 years, so she must know a few tips and give good advice."

"You can ask me anything you need, hon. And if I can't answer something, you can just ask Edward," she said.

"Please, Rose? I want to do a good job here. I know how competitive this place is, and I don't want to have to find another job," I pleaded with my eyes, hoping she'd just give it already.

"Well, if you insist…" She took a pen from her desk and scribbled something down on a notepad, then ripped the sheet off and handed it over to me. "This is her email address. But I have to warn you, Bella, she wasn't the nicest person when she worked here. I doubt she'll want to help you."

"It's worth a try," I shrugged, mentally doing a touchdown dance. "Thank you."

I made my way to my office and noticed Edward Masen wasn't there yet, and the doors to his office were wide open. I set my things down on my desk, including the paper with Martha's email, and checked my watch, seeing it was 8:52 a.m.. I still had a couple of minutes. I'd go into his office and snoop around for stray files. Who knew? I might get lucky.

So I grabbed the paperwork I had filled in for him last night and slowly walked to his office. I went in and closed the doors behind me, but that made the room completely dark, since the automatic blinds were shut. Snooping around in the dark would be useless and suspicious, and there was no way I was going to the windows to manually open them, so I groped around the wall for the light switch.

When I found it, I flicked it on and walked to the wide space of his office with the papers in my hand. It was really neat, with no stray papers like I'd hoped. I was stepping up the two steps to his desk to search in the cabinets when I heard it.

"Ohh… Hey there Isabella."

I yelped in surprise and slipped whilst stepping up, falling back on my ass and hitting my head on the hardwood floor hard enough to see little stars.

"Oh my God!" I saw Masen come running to me in my peripheral vision. "Did I scare you? I'm so sorry!"

"Uhh," I groaned and sat up. Great, now my dull headache from the drinks last night had turned into full blown agony. My ass also hurt like hell.

"Stay right there, don't move," he ordered, straightening and running out of my line of sight. I almost turned my head to see where he was going, but moving my head hurt too much.

He came back holding a pot of… frosting? "Here, have this while I go get you some ice."

He left the office and I just sat there, holding the pot of white frosting in my hand. What the hell was I supposed to do with it? The pot was thick plastic, and while it was cold, it _was_ plastic and not cold enough to help at all. But I pressed the under part to the back of my head. That was how Masen found me when he got back, holding a transparent bag filled with ice cubes.

"What are you doing?" Masen asked me as he crouched down beside me on the floor and handed me the bag. I took it and pressed it to the place behind my head where the frosting pot was. The coldness stung, but the pain eased a little.

"I'm, uh.. I hit my head and you gave me this, so…" I said, confused.

He laughed. "You were supposed to eat it, silly!"

"What?" I frowned. "But it's frosting, sir."

"Yeah, I know… Isabella, how hard did you hit your head?"

"I don't quite get what you're saying, Mr. Masen. You wanted me to _eat_ that? Frosting? Pure, white frosting?" I wondered if he had been the one who hit his head. Or maybe he was dropped as a baby. Or inhaled too much lead. Or pot. Or both.

"Why, yes. It's good, better than chocolate, even. And it always makes me feel better." I shook my head in disbelief. "You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"No," I lied. He arched an eyebrow. "Okay, fine, a little bit," I admitted.

"I'm going to prove it to you," he said, pulling the red lid off and peeling back the foil that covered the white goo. "Scoop some up with your finger."

I hesitated, but then dipped my index finger inside and scooped it up, then pulled my hand back and sticked my finger in my mouth. It was thick and sweet and… incredibly good. I surprised myself by dipping another finger in for seconds.

"You like it," Masen pointed out. I nodded and smiled. "This is actually a first. People are usually disgusted when I force them to eat it." He laughed as if that were a usual occurrence.

"And you don't get sick eating it?" I asked as he, too, scooped some up and ate it. He shook his head. "Or fat?"

He laughed again and said, "I would probably be huge if I didn't work out, so don't go thinking I'm blessed."

I dipped two fingers in for what I promised myself to be the last time ever and got up, the ice bag still pressed to my head. Masen got up, too, and started helping me gather the papers that had scattered around the floor.

"The edges are all gooey," I noticed. "I'm sorry, sir, I'll print new ones…"

"Don't worry about that," he said and took the papers from me. "Here, you can have this as an apology for almost killing you back there."

"Thank you." I couldn't help but take the pot of frosting he offered me. "I didn't see you arrive this morning, so I thought you weren't in here," I explained.

"Yeah, well, I kind of fell asleep here last night." Now that he said it, I noticed that he was indeed still wearing the gray dress pants and white button-down shirt he wore yesterday. "Good thing I have a shower and wardrobe here, huh?"

I nodded. "Will you be needing anything else, Mr. Masen?"

"No, no, everything's great. Thank you, Isabella."

So I left his office with a sore ass, aching head, a bag full of dripping ice, a bloody pot of white frosting, and no information on the Twilight Wetlands project.

The rest of the day was much like the last one was. The only major difference was lunch. Alice, Rosalie and I went to a nearby self-service restaurant, and I admit I had a good time. Alice was almost impossible to dislike, with her bubbly ways. She might've irked me, had we been alone, but with the calm and nice Rosalie, we had the perfect balance.

Time flew by quickly, and in no time we were due back to work. There, time dragged by more difficultly with so much to do. My only company were the people who I talked to in the phone and wrote down messages for, and I found myself wishing my new friends, Jasper, or even Masen were there with me.

In the middle of the day, I broke my promise to myself and opened the pot of frosting Masen had given me. He was right, it did make me feel better.

When my watch beeped 6 p.m., I said goodbye to Masen and left the building. As soon as I was in a cab, I pulled out my phone and called Jasper.

"Jasper Whitlock," he answered.

"Hey, Jazz, it's Bella. I got Martha's email address. The assistant I was telling you about yesterday, remember?" I said.

"Brilliant. I take it that's the only progress we have had?"

"Yeah, unfortunately. I was going to snoop around in his office this morning, but I found out he has the habit of sleeping in."

"Hmm, that might be a problem in the future," he said.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"So, my place or yours?" he asked.

"How about yours tonight?" I suggested.

"Sounds great. The key is under the doormat if you get there before I do."

"I know. See you there."

When I got to Jasper's apartment and knocked several times on the door without answer, I took the keys from their place under the doormat. It was an obvious place to hide it, but I don't think anyone would want to take anything from Jasper.

His apartment, like mine, was simple and small, only a bit rougher around the edges and messier. He hated to clean, and there were always pizza boxes and clothes littering the place, which was part of the reason why we usually met up at my apartment instead of his.

With nothing else to do while I waited for him, I turned on his computer - nothing like the iMac I had at work, but at least he had one - and logged into my personal email account. After going through my emails quickly, I hit new and wrote to Martha.

**_From: Isabella Swan (isabellamarieswan(at)live(dot)com)_**

**_To: Martha Summers (marthapsummers(at)gmail(dot)com)_**

**_Subject: Masen Developers_**

**_Date: Tuesday, February 13_**

**_Dear Mrs. Summers,_**

**_My name is Isabella Swan and I recently got the job in Masen Developers as Mr. Edward Masen's personal assistant. It has come to my attention that you last worked here for a long period of time with Mr. Charles Masen and have strong feelings about his son's taking over the presidency. I was told many things, but I am interested in knowing your side of things. I would appreciate it if you agreed to meet up with me some time so we can discuss this topic. I am in no ways doing this as a favour for Mr. Edward Masen, he is not even aware that I have contacted you. I ask that you please consider my offer._**

**_Thank you for your attention,_**

**_Isabella Swan_**

I hit send. Now all I had to do was wait for Martha's reply - if it even came.

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><p><strong>AN: Anyone else fancy some good ol' pure frosting? Remember to leave a review, everyone!**


	5. Day 3

**A/N: Hi! I got a review last chapter asking what frosting is so here it is: Frosting is the buttery, sugary, piece-of-heaven-ery mixture you coat cakes, cookies, brownies, cupcakes, etc., with. It can be coloured and flavoured, but the one I meant was the original white kind. TheWeirdoInThoseNerdyGlasses (I love your name choice, btw! Really cute), it would probably do you good to google-image the term. I'm sure you've had it before, you just probably call it something else! Icing, maybe?**

**Now I'll shut up before this note becomes bigger than the chapter itself… Which I apologise for!**

_**Disclaimer**_**: I don't own Twilight! Gee.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

"Good morning, Isabella. I'll need a copy of each of these files and you to fax this report to this number," Masen started bombarding me with tasks early on Wednesday.

"What about your calls, sir?" I asked.

"Just send them straight to me. Hurry with these, please," he told me.

I nodded and took the folders and loose papers from the edge of his desk. I went to mine, clicked the button on the phone that would redirect incoming calls to Masen, and made my way to the copier room. Thankfully, it was empty so I didn't have to wait in line and, better yet, I could scan the files for anything Twilight Wetlands related without getting suspicious looks in return.

I pulled out a packet from the one of the file folders he gave me and scanned it briefly before placing it face down on the Xerox machine. No luck. I had to remind myself that it was only my third day here, and we might already have something with Charles Masen's assistant.

I had copied half of the papers when the machine made a strange noise and jammed. I opened the front tray, the one below that, hell, I even opened a flap that revealed dozens of small, intimidating little buttons. I didn't dare push any of those, just shut the damn thing and tried hitting the green 'start' button again.

The thing beeped again, so I opened the trays and flaps all over again. There was a red light flashing on top, but I had no idea what to do. For good measure, I hit the thing a little, but the light kept flashing and no copies would come out. After about 10 minutes of futile fumbling, I realized that there must be some kind of connection error, so I tried twisting the machine around so I could check the back of it. The damn thing was really, really heavy, but I finally managed to turn it enough that I could just make out the wires coming out from behind it if I leaned in.

I poked my head around it and poked some of the wires, uselessly trying to find one that wasn't connected. I found a tangle of them, so I squeezed both of my hands in and started pulling them free from each other. Surely that must be the problem!

The tangle was almost undone when a familiar voice startled me.

"Isabella, there's a client giving me hell because he hasn't gotten his bloody land reports yet… Er… What are you doing?"

"Ah! Oh, Mr. Masen, I'm sorry to keep you waiting! The machine broke down on me!" I explained, giving him my best don't-fire-me look. "But I'm fixing the problem. Just give me one more second, please."

"And the problem is back there?" he asked, doubtful.

"Yes, the cables are all tangled back here," I told him. "But I've got it."

I heard his laugh even as I pulled back from having perfectly rearranged the knotted cables. When I looked at him, I saw he had his head thrown back and was shaking from all that laughing. It was contagious, and even though I didn't know what he was laughing at, I couldn't contain my own smile. Edward Masen laughing like that was also dangerously sexy.

"There. Now I'll just press the green button and the…" I trailed off when I saw that the red light was still blinking. I pressed the start button, but the machine beeped like it had before I had fixed the problem.

When I helplessly looked at him, I saw him wipe tears from his eyes, still chuckling. "You untangled the cables from behind the machine?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yes, I… I don't understand why it didn't work."

"This," he said, pressing his index finger just under the blinking red light, "means that there is paper jammed somewhere inside."

My mouth made a silent 'O' as it dawned on me. Oh my God, I am so stupid! No wonder he'd been laughing at me like that. I felt my stupid cheeks heat up as embarrassment flooded through me. I quickly covered my blush with my hands.

"You never used a Xerox machine?" he asked, raising an eyebrow with a smile.

"O-of course I have," I stuttered. And I had, it just had never jammed before, and who knew what the little buttons were for anyway? "It was just a different model."

"Uh-huh…" he winked at me and opened the lower tray of the thing. Warmth of a different kind flooded through me then. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! Stop replaying that wink in your mind!_ I reprimanded myself. _No matter how hot that was._

After some shuffling, Masen pulled the crumpled sheet of paper that I hadn't found from inside the machine and shut the tray again. The red light disappeared and the machine made another, smooth-sounding noise before it picked up where it had stopped.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Masen," I apologized. "That was really stupid of me."

"It's okay," he assured me, sounding like he meant it, but still. He must be thinking how I got hired for this position if I couldn't even make proper copies.

"No, it's not, sir," I said. "But it won't happen again. I'll get the copies and take them to you."

"I'll help you," he said. "Send the fax and I'll finish the copies."

I really had screwed up. Now he thought I sucked at my job and I couldn't look at the copies he made. No, I had to see those papers!

"No, then you'd be doing my work," I said. "I'll do it."

"It's fine, really," he smiled and put another paper on the copier. "We'll go faster this way."

"Mr. Masen, it's not right," I protested. Just give me the damn papers already and go back to your habitat!

"Isabella, relax," he said. To my surprise, he reached over and patted me on the back. "I'm not upset about the jamming. Mind you, you actually brightened up my day a little."

That did me in. Fine. I give up.

Without a word, I took the papers I had to fax and the number of the receiver.

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><p>A few minutes before lunchtime, the phone at my desk rung. It was - you guessed right - Masen.<p>

"Hi, Isabella," he said.

"Um," I hesitated at his unexpected greeting, but quickly composed myself and answered, "Hello Mr. Masen. What can I do for you?"

"Nothing, I just want to know if you already have plans for lunch today?" he spoke so quickly that I almost didn't make out his words.

"No?" I said, but it came out as a question. I actually was planning on eating by myself or with Rosalie and Alice, but if he wanted to eat together again, it was fine by me.

"You don't sound very sure," he laughed, sounding less flustered now. "Do you want to eat with me again?" And then, almost like he was whispering something to himself, he added, "_Are you free_?"

Pondering his latter words, it took me a moment to answer. He took my silence for a no. "You already have plans and just don't want to let me down, right? No worries, that's quite alright. Enjoy your meal, Isabella."

"Yes, I'm free!" I jumped to my feet with the receiver still in my hand. I spoke so loudly that he must've heard me from inside his office, too. "I was just surprised that you'd want to eat with me again, sir!"

The phone went dead in my ear. What the hell? He hung up on me? Okay, maybe I had demonstrated a little too much enthusiasm, but that was just because I was happy at the prospect of getting more info on him. Last time we went out I'd gotten to Martha, hadn't I?

At least, that's what I tried to convince myself I'd been excited about.

I was still standing with the receiver pressed to my ear and an outraged expression on my face when the doors to Masen's office swung open and he appeared.

"Seriously, '_I was just surprised that you'd want to eat with me again, sir_'?" he replayed my words in a high-pitched squeak that sounded nothing like my voice. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my entire life."

My jaw fell open. Was that an insult? Well, kind of, I think - he did call me stupid, after all. He had been chuckling and shaking his head in amusement, but when he took in my expression, he immediately sobered up. "I'm sorry, that was inappropriate. I didn't mean to insult you. I just think it's extremely silly of you to think something like that."

"I got your point, I'm just not used to such… bluntness," I told him and smiled. "I'm not insulted." Entirely, at least.

"Okay, good." He paused, then his usual easy-going mood returned, "So I guess it's only fair that I take you somewhere today?"

I nodded and grabbed my purse from my desk. "Where?" I asked.

The 'where' was a Thai restaurant just bellow the street of the building, Chambers Street. It was more crowded than the Japanese restaurant we'd been to, but it wasn't long until we were seated.

"You'd never had Japanese food until a day ago but you like Thai food?" I asked him as I browsed the menu.

"Yeah," Masen replied. "I eat here a lot because the food is good and it's cheap. It's close, too, and that's another plus."

And here's my cue to ask away. "Mr. Masen, if you don't mind my asking… Were you a musician? You know, before…" I trailed off, not wanting to speak the words. _Before you found out your father was dying._

"Rosalie told you that, didn't she?" he chuckled. "I swear, than woman shows me off like I'm her award-winning kid. You shouldn't believe anything she says about me - she's always too nice."

"So you didn't attend Juilliard?"

"I did," he said like he was admitting to a crime. "But that's no big deal."

"I think it's a pretty big deal, sir," I said.

A waiter came to take our orders then. When we were alone again, a silence had settled between us. Just when I thought things might start to get awkward, Masen spoke.

"So it's my turn to ask a question. Actually, I think you asked two in a row. No, make that three. And that's not even counting the fact that you were the last to ask last round," he said, pointing a playful accusing finger at me.

"True," I laughed. He grinned.

"I've heard that you were born in a small town in Washington. Why'd you come to the big city?" he asked.

He'd been reading stuff on me, hm? Jasper be blessed for his skills in hiding my real job. Having Masen find out that I was a journalist and hadn't really worked in all those high-end companies would ruin everything.

"You know, following the American dream: fame, money, cars, status, glory… nothing I'd find in the minuscule town named after a piece of silverware I grew up in. Things just didn't turn out like I'd hoped," I told him sheepishly. This was all true, of course, so I didn't have to work on it with Jasper.

He hummed in understanding. "What about your family?" I shook my head. "Are you happy?"

"Yes. I can't imagine myself leaving this city again," I replied.

"That's not what I asked."

The waiter arrived with our food and drinks. I tried the rice and chicken. It was good, and I could make out several different tastes in it, and- _it was extremely spicy! _I dropped my spoon and fork and reached for my glass of Diet Coke, chugging it down to calm the fire in my throat and tongue.

"Yeah, it's spicy. I probably should've warned you, sorry," Masen said.

I sighed in relief as a dull stinging replaced the feeling that my tongue was going to fall off. Masen was eating his noodle soup with chopsticks, clearly laughing internally at my display.

We didn't pick up where we'd left off in our question game. Instead, we spoke of trivial things, such as our hobbies - my nonexistent ones and his passion for music, a topic which he tried to avoid. Mind you, whenever I'd try to bring it up, he'd wave it away and direct the spotlight of the conversation back at me. So that hobbie-talk was clearly an unproductive one.

We were both eating a sticky, coconut rice for dessert when Masen decided he still had something to ask me.

"Now this is not really a question. More like a request." He looked at me, his eyes asking me if that would be okay.

"Go ahead."

"Can you please call me Edward?" he said. "I asked you to that first day, yet here you are, calling me 'sir' whilst we speak our innermost thoughts and feelings," he smiled.

"Oh."

He really had asked me that, but it was so unprofessional of him! We already had lunch together, which I think is weird enough - no matter how much I liked it - and it would be completely inappropriate if I started calling him Edward. What was next? Eddie?

"So are you doing it?" he pressed.

"I don't know, sir. I don't think I can get used to such informality with my boss in my workplace," I told him.

"Isabella, what difference does a name make?" The pleading look he gave me made me think that there was a reason why he wanted to be called that way. One that had nothing to do with maintaining a friendly employee/boss relationship.

"Okay," I agreed. He broke into a relieved smile. "But only if you tell me why you want that so much, _Mr. Masen_." I emphasized the last part on purpose, and, to my surprise, he flinched.

"It's nothing," he said, his green eyes looking away from my probing ones.

Don't wanna tell me, eh? That meant my hunch was correct - there was more to it. Did he have family issues? Resent his position in the company? The lunch finally seemed to be getting somewhere, work-wise.

"Alright, I understand. I apologize for asking, sir," I used my most polite and formal tone, hoping that would get him to tell me what I wanted to hear.

"Wait," he sighed, then smiled self-depreciatingly. "You'll probably think I'm being absurd, but… People used to call my father Mr. Masen. If they start calling _me_ Mr. Masen, it's like I'm taking his place. Like he's gone."

I blinked several times, dumbfounded. It had been nothing like I expected. I actually felt a little guilty for making him talk about sad things. Sure, he and his father were doing horrible, selfish things, but they were still human beings. Edward was still losing his father.

"I'm so sorry, Edward," I said in a small voice. "I really should've left it alone."

"Don't worry about it, Isabella," he smiled again, but it wasn't with his usual brightness.

He insisted on paying the bill again, and I didn't argue. We walked back to the building, and soon I was back at my desk answering calls and taking messages. By 6 p.m., Edward was still working. I told him I was going and he smiled and waved me goodbye. I went straight to my apartment, too knackered to ring Jasper.

I checked my emails in my slug of a computer, but Martha Summers still hadn't replied. Maybe she wouldn't at all. I had to find another way to approach this.

I had to find the damn Twilight Wetlands file.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for all those who reviewed! I may not be able to reply to the guest ones, but I appreciate them all very much!**

**Reviews = sugar, spice, and everything nice!**


	6. Day 5

**A/N: Those of you who follow me on YouTube might know that I will not be posting new stories on my channel there. However, this fanfic account will still be used regularly, alright? Perfect Stranger will not be affected by my leaving YT. Just thought I'd clear that up! ;)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

On Friday, when I checked my email after arriving at work, I saw I'd finally gotten a response from Charles Masen's ex-secretary.

_**From: Martha Summers (marthapsummers(at)gmail(dot)com)**_

_**To: Isabella Swan (isabellamarieswan(at)live(dot)com)**_

_**Subject: RE: Masen Developers**_

_**Date: Thursday, February 15**_

_**Mrs. Swan,**_

_**I have no interest in anything Masen-related. I sincerely do not comprehend your reasons for contacting me. If you are working for that child Edward, you must know all you need about the company's affairs. Do not contact me again, or I will report you for harassment without any hesitation.**_

_**Martha P. Summers.**_

Rosalie was right when she said this woman would be a rude reply! And I'd been perfectly polite to her in my last email! But I wasn't giving up that easily. I quickly typed a reply, being more polite than she deserved.

_**From: Isabella Swan (isabellamarieswan(at)live(dot)com)**_

_**To: Martha Summers (marthapsummers(at)gmail(dot)com)**_

_**Subject: RE: RE: Masen Developers**_

_**Date: Friday, February 16**_

_**Dear Mrs. Summers,**_

_**I understand that you do not hold fond memories of the company, but I assure you that what I have to talk to you will be of your interest. Please consider my offer to meet with me, or at least give me your phone number so we can talk. Please. What I have to say is important, and, if it makes any difference to you, it's nothing in favor of the company or the Masens.**_

_**Sincerely,**_

_**Isabella Swan**_

I logged off my email and got up. I had a meeting to arrange. I retrieved the files, forms, and contracts for a project in the Financial District that still had to be approved by the investors. They were coming this morning to sort things out with Edward, and even though I knew it didn't regard the Twilight Wetlands, it had me jumpy. It was, after all, my first real job as Edward's assistant.

After peeking inside to make sure all the blinds were closed, I went into the conference room and stacked the papers Edward would need during the meeting. Then I pulled down the white screen and turned on the projector to make sure everything would go on smoothly for him. The projections were kind of blurry, so I adjusted the brightness and contrast in the small remote. Look at me, I'd become the perfect businesswoman.

"You're doing an excellent job, Isabella."

You'd think I'd be getting used to Edward's sneaky appearances, but his voice coming from behind me still elicited a surprised gasp from me. I turned around and saw him standing in the doorway, the white glow from the projector barely illuminating him.

"Thank you, Mr. Masen." Even in the dark, I saw him arch an eyebrow and half-smile. "I mean, thank you, _Edward_."

"Don't mention it. I'm the one that has to be thanking you. Which reminds me, would you mind taking a look at my presentation? I'd like to know your opinion on it, if that's okay," he said, walking into the room.

Asking for my help, were we? Most men would be too proud to do so. "Of course," I replied.

As he came closer, I noticed he'd dressed up for the meeting. He was wearing a tailored light suit - gray, I thought, but couldn't be completely sure - and a black tie. Needless to say, he looked good enough to eat. I looked away and extended a hand for the pen drive he held. He set it on my palm, his warm skin brushing mine. For a moment, it almost seemed to me like he did it on purpose, but then I told myself to quit the whole wishful thinking shit.

I plugged the pen drive into the computer in the corner of the room and sat down on the chair in front of it. Edward came to stand behind me. Well, shit, if he weren't here, I could browse through the multiple folders inside the drive. But since he was, I had to open the one titled 'MWN PROJECT'.

I read through his powerpoint presentation. It was actually pretty good. Probably better than anything I'd come up with, even. But I couldn't help but think that it was my job to prepare these sorts of things.

"Edward, I think this is perfect. But preparing these for you is my job, so please let me do it next time," I said, spinning the chair to face him.

"I actually like doing these, it helps me prepare myself for the meeting. But we can do it together next time. Two minds are better than one, right?"

"Right."

The lights switched on, and a burly guy with dark curly hair and big blue eyes greeted us. "Good morning."

"Oh, hey, Emmett! You're here already," Edward replied, walking to the bigger man and slapping his extended hand away to half-hug him. "How are you, buddy?"

"Fine, like always," Emmett replied.

"Haven't you and Isabella met yet?" Edward asked, looking back and fourth between us.

"Not really," I said, taking in the stiff form of Emmett, so at odds with his big-teddybear looks.

"Isabella, this is my best friend Emmett. He usually comes to these meetings with me, because, honestly, he's much better at it than I am. And Emmett, this is Isabella, my lovely assistant." He added something in a low voice, but I didn't catch it. It must've been interesting, because it got Emmett's lips curving into a small smile. I forced myself not to scowl as Big-guy and I politely shook hands.

* * *

><p>The meeting went well, thankfully. Edward might seem like he's in way over his head with his father's company, but he actually handled himself pretty well in there. And that Emmett guy spoke a lot, too, to my surprise. Between Edward's relaxed, confident attitude, and Emmett's expertise, they perfectly complemented each other during the presentation. It was like they'd been doing that all their lives, though they couldn't possibly have had that many meetings before. In the end, the contracts got signed and MD got the job.<p>

"How about we go for lunch together, to celebrate? Bill's on me," Edward suggested after it was all over.

"Cool," Emmett said.

"Alright," I agreed.

* * *

><p>At 1 p.m., Edward came out of his office and we left to meet Emmett in his. It was on the other side of the floor, and, even though the walls of the offices here were all made of glass, blinds blocked the inside from view.<p>

"Wait. Stay here," Edward told me before opening the door with the name '_Emmett McCarty, Chief Information Officer_' on it. I raised an eyebrow in question. "The blinds aren't down in there," he explained.

"Oh. Thanks," I smiled gratefully. The last thing I needed was to see how high we were and lose my appetite.

Edward grinned and went inside the office. "Drop everything, Em. Time for lunch," I heard him say.

"Are you sure you want me there?" I heard Emmett's gruff voice reply.

"Of course, why wouldn't I?" Edward sounded as confused as I was. Was their friendship only an act? Was Edward really a tyrannical boss when I wasn't around?

"Don't you prefer to be alone with-" Emmett started saying, but Edward's voice spoke over it, sounding agitated.

"-um, er, Emmett, _Isabella's_ waiting for us just outside your door! It's not polite to make a lady wait, so come on!"

"O-of course." A moment later the door opened again and Edward came out with a sheepish smile on his face, followed by a perfectly composed Emmett.

"Well, lets get going then!" Edward announced and we went to the elevators, pressing the 'down' button. "Any requests?"

"Anything works for me," Emmett said, and I nodded in agreement.

"Oh, come on, you can do better than that," Edward said. We remained silent. "Hmm… In that case, I assume it's okay if we go to the seafood restaurant downstairs?"

He said it while looking at me, knowing how I wouldn't like that. However, I didn't protest, only because that's what he wanted me to do. That was a ploy to get me to tell him where I wanted to eat. At my silence, he waggled his eyebrows at me, still with that daring smile. I laughed. The doors of the elevator in front of us opened and Emmett walked inside, past us.

"Fine by me," I said. He'd be the one to give in, not me. Definitely not me.

Edward sighed heavily and we went into the elevator. "Get floor 107 for me, will you, Emmett?" he asked the CIO, who was standing close to the buttons.

Instead, Emmett pressed the button for the lobby, completely ignoring his request. Thank goodness.

"You don't like that place," he explained once we got off the elevator. "I know of a steakhouse round here."

The steakhouse in question was nothing particularly fancy, thankfully, and served amazing food. I found myself actually having a nice time with them. Emmett didn't talk much, but there was some type of quiet kindness to him that I liked. I also noticed that he was sort of protective of Edward, like a big brother or something, and extremely fond of him. Whenever Edward talked, Emmett gave the younger man his full attention, and his eyes seemed to soften.

The relationship between them sparked my curiosity, so when Edward excused himself to go to the bathroom, I jumped on the opportunity to find out more.

"So, Emmett… How long have you worked in MD for?" I asked him, taking a bite of my steak.

"Nine years," he replied.

"Oh?" That was a long time, but I guess it was to be expected, seeing his high position in the company. "May I ask how old you are?"

"Thirty-three next month."

"Married?" He shook his head. "Girlfriend?" Another head-shake. "Divorced?" He smiled at that, but shook his head again.

Realizing how rude my question bombardment must be, I apologized. "Sorry for the pop-quiz," I smiled sheepishly.

"No problem," he said, cutting his steak. "What about you?"

I guess there was no harm in telling him. "I just want to focus on my career right now, so I'm not really looking for a serious relationship."

"I see."

We ate in silence for a few moments then, while I thought of a way to ask him about Edward and his father.

"You must've known Edward for long, since you worked for his dad, right?" I said.

"Yes," the corners of his mouth slightly turned up in the smallest of smiles, "Since he was a just boy in grade school."

"That's nice," I smiled, too, picturing a wimpy kid with the world's greenest eyes. "Has he changed a lot?"

"Fundamentally, no. He's always been the same to me."

Edward choose that moment to come back, sitting down in his place beside me. "You know, I sneezed back there. Were you two talking about me, by any chance?"

"Must be allergies," Emmett said.

"Yeah, we were just discussing the true meaning of life and of the world around us," I said.

"Emmett, I can't believe you got her to talk about that with you, too!" he joked. "You chose the wrong path for your career, mate."

"Don't I know it," Emmett full-on smiled for the first time since our meeting.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: How OOC is this story? lol.**

**Review, please!**


	7. Day 8

**Chapter 7**

"Get your ass out of bed, Swan."

"Ugh," I groaned as my comforter was yanked away from me and the sound of curtains being pulled open echoed in my small bedroom. "How'd you get in here?"

"Keys under the doormat," Jasper explained. "Come on, I'm starving."

"Get out, spawn of the devil," I replied, shifting in bed to lay on my stomach, "And close the blinds." There wasn't much light streaming in from the window, but it the whole gesture of having them open was annoying.

"It's not my fault you pulled an all-nighter yesterday, so don't take it out on me," he replied.

"I'm not," I grumbled, "Now go."

"You're gonna have to just throw me out, then."

"As if," I snorted, "That'd require me waking up, and you're not worth the trouble."

"Okay, then. I'll be having a delicious breakfast while you lay there like a corpse… Actually, it works better this way. I won't have to watch you eat like a pig," he said, his voice moving out of the room.

"Screw you!" I yelled, but my stomach grumbled at the mention of food, so I got out of bed.

By the time I was out of the bathroom and ready to go, Jasper was impatiently pacing back-and-fourth in the entrance hall of my apartment. I grabbed my coat and followed him out of my building.

"Took your sweet time, did you?" he complained. "I don't know why I even bother coming here on Saturday mornings anymore. You're harder to wake than the dead."

"Not true," I argued. "Besides, I only stayed up last night because there was some work that had to be done by Monday."

"That Masen guy really is getting you to work your ass off, isn't he? It's like you're doing all the work for him. What does he even do during the day, Google himself?" Jasper said.

"I know I would," I laughed. "No, but really, there's so much to be done in that place. Seriously, I'll never complain about the work we have at the newspaper after I'm done there. And believe it or not, Edward still works like, 24/7. He does stuff he doesn't even need to be doing."

"Chummy with the boss, eh?" Jasper teased, nudging my shoulder with his, "Watch yourself, Swan."

"Ha," I scoffed, "In his dreams."

"And in yours, too, if I were to guess. I've seen pictures of that guy, you know. I bet he's just your type."

"Everyone's type, I think," I admitted. Jasper laughed and nudged me again. "Okay, whatever, I wouldn't mind a night with him, but that's never gonna happen, so I won't fret over it."

"And why the hell not? If you want the dude, just make use of your secretary outfit. Guys are totally into that. Like, just hike up your skirt, put your hair up in a perfect bun, and wear those sexy glasses half down your nose. Then you barge into his office, and-"

"Ergh, Jasper, it totally sounds like you've done it before!" I laughed. "Now stop before my ears start to bleed. I am _not_ doing that!"

"Your choice," he shrugged. "But hey, all this sex-talk put me in the mood to go out tonight. Whatcha think?"

"Sounds good to me," I said. "Where to?"

"Who the hell cares?"

* * *

><p>We ended up going to some club Jasper's lady-friend had asked him to come. It was packed, and I knew no one from the her friend circle, so I soon strayed from the group.<p>

"I'm off, Jazz," I told Jasper, taking a drink from his hand and gulping it down before handing the empty glass back to him.

"So do you think Charlotte's doable?" he asked, nodding towards the petite woman with bleached-blonde hair who was batting her eyelashes at him.

"I guess. Looks like she'll be hard to get rid of later, though," I told him. I realized how much I sounded like a guy, but Jasper and I thought the same way in that department, and I was just giving some useful advice.

"You're right. Ah, I'll just worry about that later. Another one here!" he yelled at the bartender. I pushed away from the bar and made my way to the more packed area of the floor.

As expected, I hadn't even started dancing properly before I was approached by a guy. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me back against his chest.

"Confident, are we?" I shook his arms away and turned around, but didn't move away. It was a tall blonde guy with his ear pierced.

He smirked. "When I saw such a sexy girl dancing all alone, I couldn't help myself. My name's-"

"I don't really care," I told him.

"Seems like I was right," his smirk widened, "You're just my type."

* * *

><p>The weekend went by in a blur, and it was a complete nightmare to wake up on Monday. I arrived at work with a heavily made-up face, which served to hide the traces of my lack of sleep the previous nights. What can I do? I needed somewhere to vent the stress from my first week of undercover work.<p>

Just as it was nearing my lunch break, the phone rang. It was Edward. I thought he was inviting me to have lunch with him again, but, to my surprise, it was nothing like that.

"Something came up and I have to leave for a bit. Can you please transfer any urgent calls to my cellphone? Anything that's not urgent you can get a message for me to return the calls later. I'll be back later today," he told me.

"Okay," I replied. Where the hell was he going? He couldn't just leave when he wanted to, without giving me any kind of explanation, right? I pondered asking where he was headed. Would he think it was out of line?

Deciding to risk it anyways, I went ahead and asked. "Where are you going, sir?"

"I have to take care of some personal business."

Personal business? What could that be? I had to find out.

"Do you want me to call you a cab, sir?" I asked.

"That won't be necessary. Thanks anyways," and he hung up.

I didn't have much hope that he'd want me to call for a cab, but still. He must really not want me to know where he was going. I got up from my seat, walked to the door to his office, and pressed my ear against the door. It wasn't soundproof, so I could make out some bits, but it was very muffled and hard to understand. But he was definitively talking on the phone. When I stopped hearing his voice, I ran back to my desk and sat down. A moment later, the doors opened and he came out of the office.

"Sorry, Isabella. I was hoping we'd be able to have lunch together again today, but it looks like we'll have to leave it to tomorrow. I won't be back before your lunch break, but you can go ahead and leave by then. See you later." And with that, he left the office.

I quickly grabbed the phone and dialed the second secretary's number. "Hi Carmen, it's Isabella. Mr. Masen had some business to attend to, so he left the office. I also have an errand to run, so would you mind picking up his calls a bit earlier, too?"

"Ah, no problem at all, dear. Just transfer them and I'll write down any messages," she replied.

"Thank you very much!" I hung up and grabbed my purse. I had to follow Edward to this mystery place he had to go and see what kind of 'personal business' he had to attend to.

There were still 15 minutes before my break, but no one said anything when I left the office. I hurried down to the lobby, praying that Edward wouldn't have gone already. Luck was definitively on my side, because he was still standing on the street, waiting for a free cab. There were many people in there at that time, so he didn't see me when I got into one before he did.

"Where to?" the driver asked me.

"Just pull over somewhere and wait for a bit," I told him.

"It'll cost you," he shrugged, but pulled over anyways.

I felt my annoyance rise as I watched Edward let random people get into the cabs he was waving at. Instead of arguing with the rude people, the idiot just smiled and shook his head. Just when I was starting to think I should charge the newspaper for the fare, Edward got into a free cab.

"This is going to sound strange, but I want you to follow that cab over there," I told the driver, pointing at the car Edward had gotten into.

"Eh, I do this everyday," the driver replied, sounding bored.

The place I ended up at was somewhere I hadn't expected at all. It was the hospital. After paying my ridiculously expensive bill, I followed Edward inside, careful not to let him see me. He stopped to talk to ask for information in the reception desk, and a few moments later a doctor came up to him.

The doctor obviously knew Edward, because the way he smiled and patted him on the back wasn't something strangers would do. Using people and the wall columns for cover, I got closer and strained to listen in to their conversation. Luckily, the doctor wasn't keeping his voice down, so I could hear them.

"...said that, you wouldn't have come, now would you, Edward?" the doctor laughed.

"I was worried. Don't do that again," Edward replied.

"Tsk tsk tsk. Where do you think you're going?" the doctor said just as Edward started to turn towards the entrance.

"I have work-"

"Do you think your father will be happy if he finds out you were here but left?"

Edward stopped mid-sentence at that. He looked at the doctor and sighed. "Fine."

He then followed the doctor through the doors of the hospital. I considered following them in, but gave up and left. What could that have been about? From what I understood, the doctor had made Edward visit his father against his will. But if that was it, why didn't he want to see his dad? Interesting.

I stopped to eat lunch at a local fast food restaurant and used the chance to call my partner.

"Jasper Whitlock," he answered.

"Hey, Jazz. I just followed Edward Masen into EPO Hospital, and it seems like one of the doctors there knows him. I heard part of their conversation, but it was hard to understand. I think Edward didn't want to visit his dad and the doctor made him," I said.

"Ah, Swan, I think today is our lucky day. Remember Charlotte from this weekend? She's a nurse at EPOH," he replied.

I laughed, "Whitlock, it is our lucky day indeed. Seems like your weird fetishes will help us out this time."

He laughed, too. "Just give me a description of the guy and I'll ask her if she knows the guy."

"Mid-fourties, collar length blonde hair, medium frame, few inches short of 6 feet tall," I described, "He also had this deep voice, like the kind they use for voice-overs in TV ads."

"Roger. Good job, Bella."

Chuckling, I ended the call. I took the subway back to work, since the taxi ride had totally ripped me off. I still had about 15 minutes before I was officially back to work, and since I had no idea when Edward would be back, I couldn't snoop around in his office, so I decided to check my email.

And there it was, in my inbox. A reply from that Martha lady.

_**From: Martha Summers (marthapsummers(at)gmail(dot)com)**_

_**To: Isabella Swan (isabellamarieswan(at)live(dot)com)**_

_**Subject: RE: RE: RE: Masen Developers**_

_**Date: Saturday, February 17**_

_**Mrs. Swan,**_

_**Alright, I agree to get in contact with you. However, I demand to know your reasons beforehand. Call me at xxx-xxxx. If I'm interested, we can meet.**_

_**Martha P. Summers.**_

Seems like this really was my lucky day. I also noticed that her reply had come much quicker this time. Ha, all because I'd said that what I wanted to discuss wasn't in favour of MD, I'm sure. This person really did hold a powerful grudge against the Masens, it seems. All the better. I saved her number into my phone and called her right away.

"Hello?" a raspy female voice answered.

"Is this Martha Summers?" I asked, using my polite voice.

"Who wants to know?"

"Ah, this is Isabella Swan. From the emails," I said.

"Humph. Yes, I'm Martha. What do you want with me, Isabella Swan?" God, this woman was rude! Is that any way to speak to the person who would accomplish her dreams of screwing the Masens over?

"Mrs. Summers, I'm currently working for Masen Developers to find out about one of their controversial construction plans. I'm actually a journalist for The Age. But I can't really talk here, if you know what I mean," I said.

Martha was silent for so long I thought she'd hung up. But eventually she said, "Be at the Rockefeller Center at 5 p.m. on Saturday." And she hung up.

_What a presumptuous bitch!_ I thought, but honestly, I was too proud of myself to be angry at her.

Edward arrived at work almost an hour late, but I didn't even bat an eye, just welcomed him back with all the contentment I was feeling. And to think I was dreading waking up this morning.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry for the uber-late update! I just went on a extended break for a while, but I won't let it hang for so long anymore without an update. Gomen ne!**


	8. Day 9

**Chapter 8**

The next morning, I woke up not to the sound of my alarm clock beeping, but to the annoying ringing of my cellphone. Cursing the caller, I rolled from the comfort of my bed and got up, grabbing my phone from inside my purse.

"I swear, if you're trying to sell me something-" I started, but the voice cut me off before I could finish my threat.

"Haha, whoa, chillax, Swan," Jasper's voice answered me. "I'm just calling with info on that doctor you told me about."

"Can't this wait?" I grumbled, but perked up a little. "What time do you get up at anyway?"

He chuckled, "It's almost time to get up anyway, so it doesn't matter. So I called up Charlotte last night and from the description you gave me, she said that must be one Dr. Carlisle Cullen we're after."

"Anything else? What does he do?" I asked.

"He's a cardiologist, and a pretty renown one, at that. Been working at EPOH for quite a while now," he said.

"That can't be him," I said, now fully awake, "Why would a cardiologist be looking after Charles Masen, when he's got lung cancer?"

"That's what I told Charlotte, but she said he's the only one that fits the description, especially with the deep voice you mentioned."

"Hmm…" I pondered it for a moment. "A family friend then? They did seem quite close."

"Must be," he agreed.

"I think I should go have a little chat with him," I said.

"Will that help any, Swan? Maybe we're getting a little off-track here. Any luck with the Twilight Wetlands plans?" he asked.

"Not really," I admitted. "I haven't had the chance to really search, though, so that's not saying much."

"So isn't that what you should be concentrating on right now? I don't think this doctor thing will lead to anything," he told me.

To be completely honest, I could see what Jasper was getting at. We were working to expose Masen Developers' plans to tear down an important natural environment, and Edward's private life didn't have much to do with that. In my mind I knew that. But for some reason even _I_ couldn't understand, I couldn't help but be curious about the man's life. I simply had to keep digging, had to know everything about him and his reasons. Why would a guy who had everything need to purposely screw the world over? And that he did it while acting the way he did, all happy and cheerful and kind and _deceitful_ - that made me hate Edward Masen. I wanted to bring him down - _him_, personally - along with his company.

"Hey, Bella, you still there?" Jasper's voice brought me out of my trance and I loosened my hold on the phone I hadn't even noticed I'd been squeezing.

"Yeah," I replied. "Jasper, I'm going to continue to dig dirt on the Masens. I think that'll really be of help when bringing them down."

"Wow, Swan, I can almost feel the ice through the phone," he laughed. "And here I thought you and that Masen boy were getting close. Seems like I was wrong."

"Yeah, you were," I told him. And when my alarm clock announced my wake-up time, I thanked Jasper for the info and got ready for work.

I was a little early that morning, since I didn't spend an extra half-hour in bed, postponing waking up. Miraculously, traffic wasn't so bad either, and I arrived at MD with an hour to spare. The floor was almost deserted, save for a few ass-kissing workers, who were already walking round with tons of papers and folders in hands.

I went to my desk and set down my things, slowly sipping my cup of coffee as I analyzed the closed door of Edward's office. Was he in there already? If he wasn't, I might get the chance to snoop around for a bit. Deciding to risk it, I went to the door and slowly turned the knob.

It opened with a creek that resounded in the dark room. "Edward?" I whispered, but got no reply. Smiling smugly, I pushed the door open the rest of the way and went inside, switching on the lights in my way.

It was to be expected, but there was something unnerving in the silence of the office. Ignoring the shiver that went down my spine, I walked up to his desk, setting down my coffee cup as I tried the drawers there. Thankfully, the idiot didn't lock them, so I had no trouble sorting through the contents inside. Multiple pens, paper clips, rulers, calculators, and other junk lay scattered inside. Seems like all the organization of Edward's office was only a front - much like the guy himself.

Just as I grabbed the drawer below that one to pull it open, the silence of the room was disturbed by a long sigh. I jerked upright, my hand flying to my chest, when I saw that I wasn't alone it the room after all. Edward Masen was lying on the sofa, sleeping. Thank _God_.

I sighed in profound relief and slowly made my way toward him. It would be too risky to continue searching - for something I wasn't even sure he kept in here - while he was inside. I extended my hand toward him, meaning wake him up, when he moved again. His hand, which had been lying limply beside him, flew to the left side of his chest and he gasped softly. I thought he'd woken up, but his eyes remained closed. Having a nightmare, were we? His brows furrowed almost unnoticeably, but besides that, he bore no sign of waking up.

I considered letting him be, but found myself touching his shoulder and gently shaking him awake. "Mr. Masen? Edward, wake up."

His green eyes shot open, and he sat up quickly. I didn't have time to evade the movement, and we ended up hitting our foreheads together. "Ow!" I yelped, stumbling back from the sofa.

"Uh? Isabella? Is that you?" Edward asked.

"Um, yeah," I replied. "You were having a nightmare."

"Really? I don't remember," he said. "Wait, what time is it? I was so sure I set up my alarm last night." He reached inside his pants and drew out his cellphone, checking at the screen.

"I got here early," I explained.

"Oh." He got up from the couch, smoothing down his wrinkled work clothes from the day before. Seriously, did the man not bathe? "Ah, and I'm sorry for, you know, the head thing."

"It's okay, it wasn't that bad." Which was a lie. He had a thick skull.

"Is this for me?" I heard him say from his desk. I turned around in time to see him lifting my forgotten coffee cup to his lips. Fuck!

"No, tha—"

I didn't have time to finish my sentence before he started choking, almost spitting the coffee out. "Isabella, I'm sorry for being rude, but… Ugh, what is this thing?"

"Black coffee..?"

"It's bitter! You need more sugar in it! Or cream. Hell, even milk will do in this case," he complained.

"Actually, er, I like it that way. And I did add a little sugar, too," I said.

"Oh, haha, this is yours?" he blushed - actually _blushed_! A 23-year-old man! - and walked to me, handing my cup back. "Of course it is. I'm really sorry."

"It's okay, I was done with it anyway."

"No, you're just being nice. We still have a little while before work, let's go down and I'll buy you some proper breakfast," he said.

I thought about it for a moment before I agreed. "Where are we going?" I asked as we made our way to the elevators.

"Well, I don't eat breakfast much anymore, but there was this place I used to go with my…" he trailed off. I turned to see his expression and he smiled at me. "Anyways, they have the best waffles in New York."

"Hm… Sounds good." The metal doors opened and we stepped into the elevator. "Why don't you have breakfast anymore?" I asked as he pressed the button for the first floor.

"I don't really have the time," he replied.

"You should ask someone to bring it to you, then. You have me, and a couple other secretaries to do that kind of work, you know," I told him. _Although I would really hate it if he made me bring him food everyday._

"That's what Rose always tells me, but it just doesn't feel right. It's not like you're my personal servants," he said. We were quiet for a moment after that, but then he said, "What about you, Isabella? Do you usually stop for breakfast before work?"

"No, I'm too lazy for that," I admitted. "I just need coffee to wake up properly, then I'm all set."

"Ah, so that's why you're so skinny. You really should change that, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, after all," he grinned.

"The pot calling the kettle black, huh?" I smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"Alright, alright, you got me there," he said, raising his hands. "How about we both grab breakfast together everyday, then?"

"…I see no harm in that…" I spoke after a pause. "But I really meant it when I said I'm not a morning person."

"Oh, that's okay, I'm pretty sure I can handle it," he smiled widely.

* * *

><p>"How is your food?" Edward asked me, munching on his own, syrup-dripping waffles. The guy must've poured half of the contents of maple syrup bottle onto his plate! <em>He'll probably develop diabetes<em>, I thought.

"It's really good… Um, Edward, isn't all that sugar bad for you?" I commented, taking a bit of my much dryer waffle.

He looked surprised for a second before grinning and shaking his head. "Pff, you sound like Emmett. I'll be fine."

"If you say so," I muttered under my breath. How the hell was this man not fat? That's not fair!

"So, do you wanna come here every time or do you have any special requests?" he asked.

"What? Oh, breakfast. Um, this place is good. We don't need a cab to go to work."

"Why don't you just take the subway?" he asked.

"Well, it's really awkward to use it while dressed like this," I replied, gesturing down to my white blouse and grey pencil skirt.

"Come on, everyone is going to work at this hour," he said. "No one will think it's weird."

"Do _you_ use the subway?" I asked.

"When I need it, yeah," he said.

I asked a passing for more coffee and she refilled my mug before walking off. "So do you always sleep in your office now?" I asked Edward, nodding towards his crumpled clothes.

"Mostly. It's just easier, you know? I'm really considering getting one of those beds you pull from the wall," he laughed. "Sleeping on that small sofa is like dying slowly."

"I can imagine," I laughed and sipped my coffee. "But isn't your family worried about you doing that?"

The corners of his mouth fell a little, but he didn't lose his smile. "Nah. As you know, my father's in the hospital and my mother… Well, she just isn't around anymore. As for siblings, Emmett's the closest thing to one that I have." Still smiling, he took a bite of his food. "What about you?"

I vaguely remembered him asking me about my family before, and it annoyed me. Why did he want to know anyway? "Ah… My dad was the chief of police in my hometown, so he wasn't home much. No siblings, and my mom isn't around, either," I told him.

"Ah, so we're kindred spirits," he grinned.

"Hardly," I muttered, eating another bite of my food.

"So you live alone now?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"No boyfriend?"

"Not really."

"I see." He rubbed his last waffle piece in the mess of syrup that was his plate and ate it, a smile on his lips all the while. Yeah, this guy was definitely going to die of a heart attack by the time he was fifty.

We were back at the office just in time. The elevator was crowded and Edward was squeezed in the corner, standing right beside the floor buttons and pushing them for people who asked. No one was especially polite, but his dumb smile didn't falter for an instant.

"Good morning, Edward. Good morning, Bella," Rosalie, who was talking to Alice at her desk called out to us as we passed them.

"Mornin', Rose," Edward replied, waving at the girls. I smiled and waved, too. Alice nodded towards Edward and winked at me. I winked back.

"Bella, huh?" Edward commented as we made our way to our offices.

"That's something they nicknamed me," I told him.

"What about me?" he asked.

"What about you?" I repeated, not getting what he meant.

"May I call you that, too?"

"Um. Sure. If you insist."

"Bella." He nodded, "Sounds just about right."

When we got there, I sat down at my desk, but Edward didn't go into his office, just stood there. I looked up at him, "Is there something you need?" I asked. He scratched his head and looked awkward.

"So… About lunch today… Are you in?" he asked.

"Sure," I said and smiled. He looked less awkward after that.

"Great. See you later, Bella."

Work was as boring as always, but I found I was getting used to it. When it was nearing lunch time, Edward's friend Emmett showed up.

"Hi, nice to see you again, Isabella," he greeted me, not smiling, but not needing to to look friendly.

"Likewise, Emmett. Edward is in a call right now, so if you just hold on for a moment, he'll be right with you," I said.

"It's okay. I was going to ask if he wants to have lunch together," he said.

"Oh, we made lunch plans, too," I told him, smiling my polite smile. "Do you want to come?"

"I wouldn't want to intrude."

"Not at all," I said. "I would really enjoy your company, and I'm sure Edward would, too."

"I don't know." I smiled again. "Okay then."

A few minutes later, the doors of Edward's office opened and he emerged, no longer wearing the crumpled clothes from this morning. "Oh, hey Em! Did I keep you waiting? I'm sorry. Hey, Bella and I are having lunch together, do you want to come with?"

Emmett nodded, smiling at him. "Yes."

"You don't mind, do you, Bella?" I shook my head. "Cool. So let's go eat, I'm starving!"

I grabbed my things and followed them to the elevators. "Where are we going?" I asked.

"How about that Japanese place we went last week, Bella?" he suggested.

I was about to agree when Emmett shook his head, looking at Edward. "Edward—" he started.

The younger man sighed, "Fine, Emmett. Fine."

I observed their exchange with curiosity. Did Emmett not like Japanese food? "How about burgers?" I suggested.

"Good idea, Bella. Let's go."

"Er, Edward, is it just me or are you ending your every sentence with 'Bella'?" I asked as we entered the elevator.

"Haha, that obvious, huh? I just like the sound of it," he said.

"Bella?" Emmett inquired.

"That's what people are calling her. Totally fitting, right?" Edward said, almost - _almost_ - making me blush. Thing was, I didn't blush at compliments. Men had called me all kinds of pretty before, but for some reason, when Edward even implied it, I felt a strange churning in my stomach. The guy was just too cheesy.

We ended up going to McDonald's. Not much of a lunch, as Emmett had put it, but whatever. To my surprise, it was pretty busy. After ordering our meals, we actually had to do some searching before we found an empty table.

"That's mine," Emmett slapped Edward's hand away when he'd reached for his french fries.

"Sharing is caring," Edward retorted, reaching for them again.

"Then have this instead," he replied, pushing his McCarrots toward his friend.

"Seriously, Em, who the hell orders vegetables at McDonald's? I don't want any, thanks."

"You can have mine," I offered, raising my fries toward him.

"Thank you, _Bella_," Edward said, taking one and smirking at Emmett.

"No problem," I said, taking a bite of my cheeseburger.


	9. Day 10

**A/N: I forgot to add the disclaimer last time. Not that you aren't already aware that I don't own Twilight, but…**

_**Disclaimer: **_**Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer, even if they don't behave in quite the same way here…**

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><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

I arrived at the restaurant Edward and I had agreed to have breakfast together exactly 40 minutes before we were due for work. I went in and, since it was fairly empty, spotted him almost immediately. He was sitting at the same booth we'd been in the day before, grinning and waving when he saw me.

"Good morning, Bella."

"Good morning," I greeted him back. "Have you been here for long?"

"Not at all…" he shifted in his seat, "But since we didn't exactly agree at a time, I didn't want to miss you."

"Is this time okay for you?" I asked, waving at the waitress and ordering some coffee.

"Whatever works for you is fine by me," he smiled and thanked the waitress when she refilled his mug. "So… how are things going for you at work?"

"Things are going fine." _Not at my real job, they weren't, _I thought as I drank my coffee.

"Is everyone being nice to you?" he asked, sounding like a preschool teacher.

"I don't know all that many people yet, but everyone I've talked to was friendly," I told him.

"That's good… I saw you and Rosalie talking the other day. Are you two getting along?" he asked, prolonging the small talk.

"Yeah, Rosalie is a really nice person," after a small pause, I continued, "She also seemed to know a lot about you. Are you friends?"

"Yeah. She's like an older sister to me," he smiled fondly. "She treats me like a baby, though."

Remembering a conversation I'd had with her and Alice, and how Rosalie had said she wished she's met Edward years ago, I almost laughed. He might think of her as a sister, but she sure as hell had second thoughts about him. Not that I could blame her… But still. Edward Masen was a bad judge of character.

"That's nice," I told him. "But did you really only meet her when you started working at MD?"

"A few years before that, actually. When, ah, I was going through some hard times. She and Emmett were dating back then, and since he was always with me, we became friends, too," he said.

"Hard times?" I asked.

"Um," he looked uncomfortable, but I didn't drop it. "When, ah, my mother… um… left."

"Left?" I asked, searching my memory for any mention of Edward Masen's mother in what I'd read about him before taking the job. I couldn't remember anything about her. I only remembered him talking about her the day before, but he'd said she wasn't around anymore. This, however, sounded like he meant something other than what I'd thought. "As in passed away?"

"As in packed her things and disappeared," he said, smiling.

I covered my mouth to hide my shock. "How long ago was that?"

"Eight years."

"I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," he smiled reassuringly. "I was 15. It's not like I was a helpless child."

"But still… Whatkindofmotherwoulddothat?" I said all in one breath, bringing my hands to my eyes and hiding my face.

"Bella…" I felt hands wrap around my wrists and pull them away from my face. His smile was so beautiful and his hands were so soft and warm on my skin and he was still holding me and… and…

"My mother ran away with some minor-league baseball player when I was 3," the words left my lips before I could stop them.

His smile fell into a grimace. "No… Bella, I'm so sorry. It must've been so hard. You were just a baby…"

I shook my head. "I didn't know her enough to miss her."

It grew quiet after that. When I realized Edward was still holding my wrists, I looked down and then back up at him. "Sorry," he mumbled, letting me go. I set my arms on my lap under the table.

I wasn't sure what had just transpired, but I knew my composure had cracked a little when he told me why exactly his mother wasn't around. I might not miss my own mother, but I couldn't help but be sensitive to the topic. It was stupid, really.

"So Rosalie and Emmett dated, huh?" I mused, trying to liven up the atmosphere a little. "And now she's married."

"Yeah," Edward said. "Emmett hasn't dated since her, I think."

"He must've loved her a lot, then," I said. "Maybe he's still in love."

"Could be… But I don't know. I think it was Rose who was holding their relationship together back then," he grinned, his green eyes seeming far away. "I remember her always complaining that he spent too much time with me."

I laughed, "She must've been the one who broke it off, then. Who'd want a boyfriend who spent more time with a 15-year-old kid than with them?"

I could feel Edward looking at me before he started laughing, too. "Yeah. You're right, she _was_ the one who ended their relationship."

"That kind of sucks for Emmett. I bet he's secretly hated you since then."

"If he does, he sure doesn't show it."

"Yeah," I agreed, remembering the way Emmett looked at the younger man. "He sure doesn't."

After we were done eating, I let Edward pay the bill. "We still have 10 minutes," he announced when we left the diner.

"Well, we should get going. Your conference call with the Chinese clients is at 10," I told him, hugging my coat to my body as cool wind blew in our direction.

"_Wo zhidao. Xie xie_," he replied.

"Excuse me?"

He laughed. "That's Chinese."

"You speak Chinese?" I asked, mentally replaying his last words in my head.

"Had to learn. Not very well, though," he shook his head, grinning.

"Well, what did you say?" I asked.

"I said I know and thanks."

"I thought _arigatou_ was thanks in Chinese," I said. I was actually pretty sure what he had said wasn't that. I swear, if he'd been pulling one of those ridiculous movie cliches of confessing in a way I didn't understand—

"No, that's thanks in Japanese," he told me.

"Oh, so now you speak Japanese, too?" I crossed my arms over my chest, annoyed at his multi-linguist abilities. Damn rich kid. I bet his daddy had given him a pony for every language he learned.

I saw him glance at me from my peripheral vision. For an instant, I thought I saw him frown. "Not really. I was just showing off. Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," I said, looking straight ahead and ignoring his attempts to meet my gaze.

"It looks like you want me to," he said, surprising me. What the fuck, when had he stopped being polite?

"Well, you're wrong, _sir_," I told him, trying not to speak through clenched teeth. He was annoying and sheltered, but I didn't know why I was so angry. I had better control than that. Shit. "I'm sorry, Edward. I'm PMSing on you."

"Nah, I know I'm being obnoxious," he waved my words away, his usual light tone returning for a moment before he paused and said, "You can call me out on it when I'm annoying you, you know."

"You don't… annoy me," I said, plastering on my most convincing smile while lying through my teeth. I wasn't completely satisfied with my hesitation, though.

"…You don't mean that, do you?"

"Bella? Oh, and you're with..!" I heard a familiar voice call a little ahead of us. Alice and Rosalie were about to enter the building, just as we were. Alice was waving at us with an Edward-style grin. Thank fucking god, our conversation was getting creepy. What was it with those comments on my acting? Was Edward more perceptive than I gave him credit for?

"Good morning, ladies," Edward greeted them.

"Good morning, Edward," Rosalie greeted back as Alice pulled me closer to her.

"You two came together?" the short woman hissed in my ear.

"We were having breakfast somewhere near," I told her, not bothering to lower my voice to a whisper.

"Was it like, a coincidence or…"

"He invited me and I went," I said.

"Omigod, you're so lucky! Was it like a date?" she asked, still whispering even though Edward and Rosalie were a little ahead of us and couldn't hear her anymore.

"Who goes out at 8 in the morning on a weekday for a date, Alice? No, were were just eating together and he paid for my food."

"Well, was it good? What did you talk about?"

_Our absent mothers and Rosalie's love life._ "Nothing really."

"Aw, come on, spill!" she begged. "It must've been so amazing! Do you think he'll invite you again?"

"We agreed to go out everyday," I told her.

"Ehhh? That's so perfect!" she enthused, "But you make it sound like a business deal. Aren't you happy?"

"I am," I told her truthfully. "I get to eat good food for free."

"Ah, you're so cold, Bells!" she hit my shoulder lightly just as we stepped in the elevator and melted in with the rest of the crowd.

When we got to our respective offices, Edward went in his and came back with something long and blue in his hands.

"Um, Bella, can you do me a favor?" he asked. I set down my things at my desk and turned to face him.

"Sure, what is it?" I replied, eyeing the thing I realized was a tie.

"Can you help me with this? I don't usually wear them, and when I do, one of the girls around the office helps me," he told me, extending the blue piece of cloth towards me.

"Okay." I took the tie and stared at it for a moment before wrapping it around his neck. Now what the hell was I supposed to do with it? Of course I had no idea how to tie it, but I didn't want to look stupid, so I had agreed anyway. Now I kind of regretted, seeing I was probably making myself look ever stupider as I uselessly fumbled with the stupid thing.

I was also standing uncomfortably close to Edward, and with just a pull from the tie, he'd crash into me, exactly where I wanted him to be. I let go of the offending garment and stepped back.

"It's harder than it seems, right?" he laughed, tugging the tie from around his neck.

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Oh, that's alright. I'm glad I finally found someone who doesn't know how to tie these, either. I was beginning to think there was something wrong with me. I'll just ask Rose. Thanks for your help."

Edward left, and came back with a perfectly knotted tie and a grin.

"How does it look?" he asked.

"You look very professional," I told him. _You look good enough to eat,_ I thought. _If only you weren't a needy, selfish, snobbish brat…_

"That's what I was going for," he laughed, then called, right before going into his office. "Wish me luck."

"Break a leg," I muttered and sat down at my desk. I had just begun reading the eHow tutorial for tying a necktie when the phone rang. "Masen Developers, Isabella Swan speaking. May I help you?"

"Good morning, I'm Doctor Carlisle Cullen from EPO Hospital. May I speak to Edward Masen, please?" A very familiar male voice said.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Cullen, but Mr. Masen is in a very important conference at the moment and cannot be disturbed," I said.

"Oh, I see. When is he available, then?"

"Can I take a message?"

"Ask him to come to the hospital as soon as he's free, please," the doctor said.

That was my chance. "Ah, Dr. Cullen, I'm sorry for prying, but Mr. Masen has been to the hospital this week already. Is everything okay with Mr. Charles Masen?"

"Oh, there have been no immediate problems with Masen senior's condition lately," he assured me, but didn't seem to want to say much more. "Please give Edward Masen my message. Good day."

Just as soon as the phone went dead in my hands it started ringing again. I sighed and answered it, far less enthusiastic as I had been in the last call. "Masen Developers, Isabella Swan speaking. May I help you?"

Blah blah, contract deadline this, schedule meeting that, blah. When I finally got off the phone for the hundredth time, I took the chance to call Jasper. He answered quicker than I expected.

"Hey, it's me. Guess who's called?" I said.

"That Martha woman."

"No, the Dr. Carlisle Cullen. He wants to see Edward," I told him, careful to keep my voice down.

"Again? Is his dad dying or something?" Jasper asked.

"That's what I thought, but the doctor said that his condition is the same. What do you think he wants?"

"Probably just wants to get him to visit his dad. I think it's pretty much proved that the kid doesn't want to go see his dad and the nice doc wants to make the old man happy."

"Yeah, I guess," I agreed. "I'll ask Edward about that later. Believe it or not, we've gotten quite close."

Jasper laughed, "Hmm, is that so? So a wild night of hot sex isn't impossible after all?"

"Not _that_ kind of close," I laughed, too, then stopped before I made too much noise. "He invited me to have breakfast with him. _Everyday_."

"Aww, how romantic," he mocked. "But seriously, Swan, don't you have work to do or something? I'd hate to get you in trouble with your sexy boss…"

"Fuck you, Whitlock," I snorted a laugh. "He's in the middle of a conference call with some rich Asians."

"That's so lame. I bet he's importing drugs and sex slaves," Jasper chuckled.

"Hey, that reminds me… Do you think we could install some virus in his computer or something like that? Something that would let us search for the Twilight Wetlands' files in his computer, because I sure as hell didn't find anything useful around here."

"That's a pretty good idea, actually. I'll look into it," he said.

"Alright. I'm going now, talk to you later," I hung up, taking my pen and writing down the message the previous caller had left before sending some papers to print. I still had a lot of work to do, and a whole lot of hours before me. Sigh.

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><p><strong>AN: sorry for the not-so-quick and not-so-long updates. I just prefer shorter chapters, you know? And not only because they don't take as long to write, lol. Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing - lame as it sounds, your comments always brighten up my day! :) Please take a second to tell me what you think of the story/characters so far! ****_Arigatou~_**


	10. Day 12 , Part I

_**Disclaimer**_**: I don't own Twilight, Edward, or Bella, but I do own The Posh (any resemblance to real establishments is purely coincidental). lol, if any of you ever decide to open a store or a restaurant, don't ask me to name it!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

Edward was waiting with a question for me when I arrived to our breakfast date on Friday.

"Are you busy tonight?" he asked, looking at me expectably.

"No," I told him. Was he really gonna ask me out? Company runners didn't usually date their assistants, did they? If I wasn't investigating him, I'd report him. I'm not sure to who, but to _someone_.

"You see, I have to go to dinner at The Posh tonight. It should be a little boring, but the food is really good. So… Can you come?" he asked.

"Um, I really appreciate the offer, but I think I'm going to have to pass," I told him. Seriously, just look at what the place was called! I'd probably have to use my entire life savings to pay for the entrée.

"Oh, okay…" he said sounding disappointed. I thought he'd given up, but then he said, "Is it rude if I ask you why?"

_Pfft, yeah, it's very rude. _"No, that's alright. Look, Edward, I really like working for you, and I'd like my work to speak for itself."

He seemed confused for a moment, then his eyes widened. "Ah, no, I didn't mean it like that!" he replied, waving his hands frantically. "That came out wrong, didn't it? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. It's just that I have to wrap up this important contract - the Hemingway one, you know? - and Emmett can't make it tonight, so I could use the moral support… But forget it, it was presumptuous of me to think that—"

He was babbling. "It's okay, it's okay," I said.

"I'm babbling, aren't I?" I slowly nodded my head after a moment. "I'll shut up now. But I want you to know that having dinner wouldn't have any weird connotations. I wouldn't do that to you, not after your last job and all that…"

"What?" Oh! My fake story, of course! "Ah, er, yeah. That. It's okay, that doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters, Bella! That must've been a traumatizing experience for you. I would never put you through something like that-"

"_Edward_," God, the dude spoke more than my old college friend Jessica when he was flustered. It was really weird of me, but I found it kind of endearing. "It's alright. I got it already. I understand, you didn't mean it like that." After a small pause, I said, "And I'll come tonight."

"Really?" I nodded. "Great! Meet me at the 24th and 6th around 10 o'clock. I'll be waiting."

"Okay… So how come this dinner meeting didn't run through me?" I asked. I arranged all of his meetings, but this was the first I'd heard of one with Hemingway. He and his company were really big at the moment, and him doing business with MD was a big deal. Hell, _I_ would be nervous - no wonder Edward was, too.

"Since it's an older project, they only had Carmen's number," he said. "I'll introduce you tonight, though, and we'll run everything through you from now on."

Hm… That meant he hadn't transferred all ongoing projects to me yet. So there was a possibility that the Twilight Wetlands project was in development, but just not coming through me. That wasn't good. I had to get my hands on all of the projects, even if that increased my workload. In the long run, it would wrap things earlier and then I could return to my real job in the newspaper. I just wasn't cut to work for a selfish rich kid.

"You should transfer all the contracts to me," I said, then added, "Carmen already has too much to do."

"_You_ already have too much to do," he retorted. "I sometimes feel like I don't have any free time, but then I remember everything you guys do and then I can't complain. I don't want you to overwork yourself."

I snorted. "Look who's talking - you're the biggest workaholic I know."

"Am not," Edward protested.

I raised an eyebrow. "You sleep in your office. I've never seen you go home, to tell the truth."

"Well, it's not like there's anything waiting for me there," he said. "It's just more convenient if I stay at the office. And I do go home. I have a cat to feed, you know."

"Poor thing, having his owner love his work more than him," I snickered, smiling, picture a prim persian cat.

"Ha, Arthur _hates_ me! I think he's glad I'm out of his sight most of the time," he laughed.

"Aw, come on, cats hate everyone. I don't think it's anything personal," I said.

"No, it's just me, I'm telling you. Here, take a look," he folded the sleeves of his light blue dress shirt back, exposing his pale forearms… and I couldn't help but notice how toned they were. And then I saw what he meant.

His arms were covered in scratches, some old and some looking quite recent. I laughed. "What'd you do with it? Throw it in a tub?"

"No, he just does it whenever I'm within his reach! That cat is evil, I'm telling you," he said, shaking his head with a grin. I got the feeling that while the cat might really hate Edward, the feeling wasn't mutual. What a masochist.

"Cute," I remarked. He half grinned in response.

* * *

><p>As soon as we parted ways at the office, I dialed Jasper's number to tell him about the recent developments.<p>

"Guess who's invited to The Posh tonight?" I said as a greeting in the phone.

"Ah, lemme see… Me. No, wait, you're the one who has a rich mama's boy wanting to get in your pants, so… You," Jasper mocked.

"Yes," I laughed, "But according to Edward, it's meant to be about moral support, not future sex."

"Ha, and you believed that?" he snickered.

"Well, yeah, kind of. The man's almost asexual. Mind you, he hasn't made any moves on me yet, can you believe it?"

"Maybe he's gay. With his pretty boy looks, I wouldn't doubt it."

"Now that you mention it, he does kind of come off as that sometimes. He's way too nice to be straight," I laughed. "That'd be a shame, though."

"Nice, hm? Don't tell me you're letting him get under your skin," my partner teased.

"Pfft, shut up, Whitlock. It's just an impartial statement of fact. You know, I think I should introduce him to you. You could learn a thing or two about being a gentleman, you man whore," I said.

"You're one to talk, eh? How's that blonde dude you were dry-humping this weekend? What was his name again?"

"I don't know," I told him, fully aware of how slutty that made me sound. Well, who cares, I'm young and just want to have fun. Knowing the name of the guy I slept with doesn't make him any less of a stranger to me. "How's Lottie, by the way?"

"Sending me a text message right as we speak. I kind of regret giving her my number now. You were right, she _is_ hard to get rid of. It's funny how you have any eye for those types," he said.

"Years of practice, my friend," I said. "But let's get back to the matter at hand 'cause I have piles of papers to go through here. Did you see into the virus I suggested?"

"Yes, and I've requested one from the Tech guy. He said he'll have one for me by the end of next week, tops."

"Hm. Today I also found out that there are a few projects that are sent to the second secretary instead of me. Maybe the TW plans are with her."

"Well, damn. You know, you should suggest them to digitalize everything instead of having some only on paper. That would make things way easier."

"The new projects are digital, but the older ones are still mostly on files kept in the file room. It's really a pain."

"Why don't you just go there and look under 'T'?" he asked.

"Do you think I'm stupid? Of course I did that, but I didn't find anything named 'Twilight'. Maybe it's under the company's name or something like that. There are infinite possibilities."

"If that's the case, why don't you ask your boss to transfer everything to you?"

"I have, but he said he doesn't want to increase my workload since I already have a lot to do."

"Ha, I think he just doesn't think you can handle it."

I left that comment at that. "Well, that's all I had to say. I have to go now. See you." I ended the call and got to work.

* * *

><p>"That's enough, Edward," Emmett said, stopping the younger man as he stuffed his pasta with enough grated cheese to feed a family of hungry mice.<p>

"Tch, mind your own food, will you, Em?" Edward said.

Edward, Emmett and I were having lunch together at some Italian place Rosalie had suggested we visit. We had invited her and Alice to come along, but they said they had other plans. The food was good, and since I didn't have to worry about how expensive it was, I was quite enjoying myself.

"If I let you have your way, you'd stuff yourself with salt and cholesterol," the big guy said, eyeing his friend seriously. Edward just shook his head and looked away.

"In that case, thank you, _Dad_." Emmett flinched.

I laughed, "Edward, you're so immature. He's just looking out for you."

"That may be, but he goes overboard, don't you think?" he reasoned with me.

"Um, yeah, a bit," I replied. It was an understatement, but I guess parents are all like that, right? Not that I'd know, though. Maybe Edward wasn't so far off when he'd said Emmett was like his brother. Or father, for that matter.

"I wouldn't if you didn't worry me so much," I heard Emmett sigh in response.

The suddenly tense atmosphere made me uneasy, something that rarely happened with me. It was weird to have Edward act anything but cheerful and polite all the time, and Emmett was just so… intense. It was weird - he gave me the feeling of being old and wise, although he wasn't that much older than I was. I also had the impression that he wasn't entirely happy, like he carried some sad burden deep inside him or something.

…And here I was, psychoanalyzing a guy when I should be getting rid of the uncomfortable tension at the table.

"So is there something I should know before dinner tonight?" I asked Edward. "You know, some unspoken rule about not wearing any particular color or dress cut? I've never been invited to such a fancy restaurant before."

"You're going with Edward to The Posh tonight?" Emmett asked.

"Yeah," I said.

"Shame you can't make it, Em. You'd be a great help when talking to the men. You probably know more about the project than I do," Edward said.

"That's not true. But I'm sorry, I really won't be able to go tonight," he replied.

"Oh, that's alright. I feel better knowing Bella will be there with me," he turned to me and grinned. "And I can't wait to see what she's gonna wear. Besides, you never go out on dates, Emmett. I wouldn't keep you from this rare occasion."

"I'm not going on a date," he protested. "I told you, I'm—"

"Yeah, yeah," Edward teased, cutting his friend off, "Don't be shy, Em."

"Edward—"

He laughed. "I'm just kidding, you don't need to explain yourself."

"Yeah, seeing he's just using this as an excuse to ask me out on a date himself," I laughed. Both men looked at me, stunned.

For a second, I was afraid I'd screwed up by opening my big mouth, but then Edward broke out in laughter. "Okay, fine, you caught me. And here I'd thought I'd been so sneaky." Then he sobered a little and said, "But Bella, like I said before, I won't do anything like your old boss. I won't ever, ever—"

"Edward, it's okay. I know that. You're nothing like him," I said, them found myself being completely honest, "I would never go out on a date with that man, but with you… With you, I wouldn't mind it at all."

A huge grin lit up Edward's features, and I couldn't help but smile too. Emmett observed us with one of his own, but I got the feeling that the small arch of his lips wasn't completely honest.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And so we'll finally see them outside of the breakfast/work/lunch rut we've had. Yay! Sorry that I'm making you wait for the dinner date, but I just didn't want to squeeze it all in here.**

**Don't forget to review, pretty please :)**


	11. Day 12 , Part II

**A/N: And here we have the similarities between this story and the movie that gave it its name. Scenes from this chapter were based on ones from the movie ****_Perfect Stranger_****, but they aren't the same at all. Not sure if that makes much sense, but it is what it is. If you've seen the movie you'll know what I mean. If you haven't, don't feel like you're missing out on anything 'cause I assure you - ****_you're not_****.**

_**Disclaimer**_**: Twilight Wetlands are mine, but THE Twilight isn't, so don't sue me, SM! ****_The Posh_**** is mine, but I don't think anyone cares about that.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

The Posh was a fancy restaurant. I knew that. But it was still unnerving to see it for myself.

Right as I walked in, a prissy bald man wearing a perfectly ironed black suit asked, "May I have your name, Miss?"

"Ah, um, Isabella Swan," I said, not seeing the relevance of the question. I looked around the restaurant in search of Edward, but everyone looked too much alike in their formal attire.

"Do you have a reservation?" the bald guy asked me after a moment.

"I'm here with someone," I said.

"May I have a name, please?"

"I've already told you, it's Isabella Swan," I replied, annoyed. What bad service for such a prim and proper place.

"The name of your companion, miss." His voice oozed practiced patience, and I flushed in embarrassment.

"Ah, Edward Masen," I told him, not making eye contact.

"A moment, please," he said, signaling at a blonde woman that stood close. She approached him and he told her something in a low voice. The blonde walked off and, a minute later, came back with Edward in tow.

"Bella, you're here!" he greeted me with an open smile. Edward looked truly amazing in a full suit. Under the dim light casted by a chandelier in the center of the room and several wall lamps, wearing a polished navy suit and an equally dark tie with a white shirt, he was the hottest guy I'd ever seen.

For a second, I thought about how much easier it would be if he were an ugly man. How unfortunate that something so beautiful could actually be a selfish, cold-hearted monster. Hell, he didn't even _have_ to be ugly, he could just be mean and rude instead of gentle and kind and just - so _nice_ all the time. Yeah, I could deal with that. It would make destroying his dreams for success so much easier. But _no_, it just _had_ to be a gorgeous man that was compromising the future of entire generations for his own personal monetary gain.

"You look as amazing as I imagined," the gorgeous but selfish man in question continued, gesturing down to the red dress I was wearing.

"Thank you, but I don't think I look good in red. It was just the fanciest dress I had," I told him.

"You must be joking. You're gorgeous," he said. I smiled my thanks, hoping I wasn't blushing or anything.

"Follow me," the blonde woman said, turning towards where they'd come from.

"That's okay. Thanks," Edward said and made for me to follow him. I walked right at his heels, feeling a little intimidated at the sight of the nicely dressed older men and women who sat at the big round tables we walked past. I wasn't one to be intimidated, but I couldn't help it. I was totally out of my element, and it made me uneasy. The heavy dark curtains and scary-looking paintings that hung on the carved wooden walls didn't help, either.

He led me to a large round table in the corner that was filled with conversing suit-clad men. When he sat down, I sat beside him, in the only available chair. "This is my new assistant, Isabella Swan," Edward called out. Faces that weren't already facing us turned our way and held up their glasses in greeting. I nodded back, smiling despite my nerves.

"Going back to what we were discussing, Masen, where do you think things will be in a few years?" A grey-haired man that seemed to be in his early 50s called.

"Go ahead and order whatever you'd like," Edward told me in a low voice before answering the man. I asked a passing waiter for a menu while listening for his reply.

"That's a hard question to answer, Mr. Hemingway," he started. Oh, so he was the boss there. "My father's decision to make me head of Masen Developers surprised me more than anyone else. He'd never talked to me about his business and just let me do whatever I wanted. I went into music not because I wanted to make a career out of it or anything like that, but because that's what I liked to do. I don't have long term plans. So asking me where I think we'll be in a few years is a really hard question for me."

Oh shit. Had he really just said that? Was he insane? Now I could totally see why he had Emmett do most of the talking. He should be saying that he imagined himself becoming the Man of the Year of some important economy magazine or something, not that he had no plans for the future! God, even a moron would know that was bad!

However, Hemingway seemed to contemplate his reply with none of my horror. He nodded before he said, "That's understandable. However, I think you underestimate yourself, young man. From what I hear, you've done a very good job of handling things up until now."

"That's true. You've made 3-months worth in contracts in only a short month, haven't you?" a balding man who sat beside Hemingway joined in.

"I see you've done your homework on us," Edward smiled.

"Of course. After all, it _is_ a multimillion deal we're making here, and we won't just hand our money to someone we can't fully trust." A waiter arrived to take our orders, and I ordered the first thing I saw in the menu.

"Are you attending the charity fund-raiser at the Diamond Castle next month?" Hemingway asked Edward, who nodded.

"Yes. I couldn't possibly refuse an invitation from Mrs. Jenkins," he said. I didn't remember receiving a call about a fund-raiser event. Must've been before I arrived.

Several men on the table laughed. "She _is_ rather persuading, isn't she?" Mr. Hemingway said between chuckles. "I'm tempted to get her to train our sales department."

They discussed several other random topics before the food arrived. But when the dishes were set down and they grabbed their silverware, there was a perceptible shift in mood. The light banter atmosphere disappeared and was replaced by a more serious one.

"How is your father doing?" Hemingway asked somberly.

"His condition is stable. Since the weekly chemotherapy wasn't having much progress, he has daily ones at the hospital now. The doctors said that would give him a bigger chance…"

"I see. Have you been visiting him? Knowing his son's there for him would be most helpful," Hemingway said.

"I've been told that by the doctors. It's kind of complicated, but I go there every week," he replied.

"Complicated?" another man at the table asked. Good thing he did, I was still going over that in my head, too.

Edward hesitated before replying, "Well, all the therapy makes him very tired, and when I go visit… Well, let's just say he's not in the best of moods," he laughed, but for the first time since I'd met him, it sounded like he was forcing it. The men at the table didn't seem to notice, though, and smiled and chuckled in response. The mood was effectively lightened.

"You have my sympathy, Masen," another man said. "My wife didn't come out of chemo feeling all nice and cheery, either."

"But Diana is always in such a good mood," someone said.

"Not 5 years ago when she was fighting breast cancer, she wasn't," the man replied.

"And that's only natural," Hemingway said. "But she's okay now, and that's all that matters."

"And after how long, Johnson?" the balding man next to Hemingway asked the man.

"An year and a half of chemotherapy," he replied.

"And how for long has Charles been going to his?" Hemingway asked Edward.

"He's known about his cancer for an year, but he's only been going for the past 10 months. And _I've_ only known about it for 1," Edward said.

The momentary silence at the table after that was broken by Hemingway, who said, "I wouldn't worry too much, son. If there's something I know about Charles is that he's very determined. He wouldn't allow himself to succumb to anything."

"…That's a very accurate description, Mr. Hemingway," Edward said.

The conversation died down then, and the men talked amongst each other, enjoying their expensive food. I, for one, _hated_ my food. It was some type of fish, but it didn't taste like anything at all. Despite that, I forced myself to eat it. I didn't want to come off as unrefined or anything like that.

"How's the food?" Edward asked me, giving me his undivided attention for the first time since we'd sat down.

I hummed in fake approval and smiled as I ate another bite of the bland fish.

"I hope this isn't too boring for you," he said. "I'm sorry if it is."

"I'm entertained enough," I replied honestly. "It's kind of interesting to watch you talk to the clients."

"You think so?" he raised an eyebrow, looking incredulous.

"I mean it," I said. "You actually look like a businessman for once. _Ah_-not that you don't look like one usually, it's just that-"

"Relax, Bella," Edward laughed, "I know that I'm not exactly suited for my position. It's no crime to say it."

"Oh.. Okay," I mumbled, eating another bite of my so-called food.

"And give me that." To my surprise, Edward grabbed my plate and traded it with his own. The food in front of me was no longer an unappetizing fish, but a thick steak and pasta. And it smelled _very_ good.

"What are you doing?" I asked him, watching as he cut a piece of my fish and eating it. He didn't look disgusted like he should've.

"You didn't look like you were enjoying your food," he explained.

"I thought you didn't like fish?" I said, but couldn't help start eating my new food. The pasta was cheesy goodness and the steak was masterfully grilled. With a little salt added, my food was perfect.

"You remembered, huh?" he grinned.

"I pay attention to details," I said. "For instance, I noticed that talking about your father has left you feeling morose," his smile faltered slightly, "No matter how much you tried to cover it up with smiles and laughs.

"I guess it would be perfectly normal if it were just the sadness of having him sick, but then why do I get the feeling that there's more to it than that?" I spoke quickly, not letting myself change my mind to speak.

Edward wasn't smiling or looking at me anymore, but rather down at his tasteless food. "Is your father mad at you, Edward?" I asked. "Did you do something you shouldn't have?"

_Did you plan to use the land he bought just before leaving to build resorts and golf fields and expensive condos?_

"You really _are_ merciless when you decide to speak your mind, aren't you?" he muttered, and I could see his self-depreciative small smile.

Okay, I'd said all I wanted, but now I had to take it down a notch. After all, he was supposed to be the boss here, right? "I just want to know more about you," I said. He turned to look at me, his usual light expression coming back. I felt a pang of something in my chest.

"Thank you."

I was about to ask him what for when Hemingway called his attention. And then the moment was lost and I didn't have the chance to ask him about it anymore.

* * *

><p>It was sometime around midnight when dinner was over and the businessmen drove off in their luxurious cars. I was about to wave at a passing yellow cab when Edward caught my arm. I looked at him with a raised eyebrow.<p>

"Do you want to maybe go out somewhere?" he asked.

"We did go out," I said.

"Yeah, but it wasn't much of a date, was it?" he said.

"So you're really counting this as a date after all?" I asked.

"Uh, I kind of thought we had agreed to it at lunch, but if I'm being presumptuous-" he started, but I cut him off before he started babbling like he usually did.

"Alright, alright, I was just teasing you. You really want to go somewhere now?"

"Yeah. I feel like I wasted my opportunity today, and you look so beautiful, and I don't even know if I'm going to get another chance like this…" he trailed off.

"Look, Edward," I said, "I'd go out and all, but I'd look overdressed anywhere we went. Besides, these shoes are killing me and I just want to lay down and sleep for a hundred years. Not to mention that I have to be somewhere tomorrow. So, sorry, but I'll have to pass."

"Nah, it's okay, I get it. What if I walked you home, then?"

"Are you crazy? I don't live anywhere near here, and there's no way I'm walking home in these shoes and in this dress when it's this cold. Not to mention it's dangerous."

"Yeah, that was stupid," he laughed. "I guess I just don't know when to give up."

He let go of my arm and I waved at a cab. It pulled to a stop in front of us, and Edward opened the door for me. "Thanks," I said, "See you Monday." I closed the door and the cabdriver drove off to the address I gave him.

When I opened the door of my apartment, I almost had a heart attack when I saw the silhouette of a man against the open window of the living room. But then my hand flew to my heart when I realized it was only Jasper.

"Fuck, Jazz, you almost killed me. Don't just stand there in the dark!" I told him, kicking off my shoes and dropping my purse and jacket on the table.

"Did you think I was a rapist?" Jasper joked, not looking sorry.

"Very funny, Whitlock. Now would you do me a favor and close the damn blinds already? I don't know why you think you have the right to barge in here and open them when I specifically tell you not to."

"Gee, why so moody? Did your hot date with your hot boss not go well?" his smirk deepened and his eyes glinted, "Or is it because you didn't get any from him?"

"Piss off!" I laughed and threw a shoe at him. I missed by a mile and he laughed.

"I'm guessing he's gay, then?" Jasper continued.

"No, not gay. He wanted to stay out and go somewhere - hell, he even offered to walk me home when I rejected him!"

"Aww, isn't that sweet? Anything good happen besides that?" he asked.

"Well, I found out for a fact that Charles Masen is mad at his son. But not much beyond that. But what are _you_ doing here?"

"I wanted to give you this," he tossed something at me, and I managed to catch it. It was a silver flashdrive.

"What's this?"

"That spyware I said I'd get you."

"I thought you said we'd only get it next week?" I asked.

"Yeah, but I'm a hard worker, and got it for you after a lot of nagging. You know, it's really unfair that you do all the fun parts of the job. The least you could do is to introduce me to some of your girl friends at work."

I laughed and tossed the drive onto the couch. "Who knows, maybe I will. Rosalie is married, but Alice is single as far as I know."

"What does she look like?" Jasper asked.

"Dark hair, pale skin, blue eyes. Short and pixie-like," I said.

"Cute," he decided. "Introduce us."

"Maybe. Now get the hell out of here 'cause I'm tired and I have to meet Martha tomorrow," I said and walked off to the bedroom.

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><p><strong>AN: Don't forget to leave me a review, please! I'm a nagging individual who likes them more than the next person, so please indulge me :)**


	12. Day 13, Part I

**A/N: GAAAH! I can't believe it's been so long since I updated! I know it's no excuse, but I really lost track of time. So sorry!**

_**Disclaimer:**_** You know what, it's been so long that I'm not even sure if I own Twilight or not. Naah, who am I kidding, the fact that I don't own it is constantly throwing itself at my face.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 12<strong>

I woke up early on Saturday. Not common for me, but that's because, on Fridays, I never went to bed before the sun was about to rise again. When you had to wake up early to go to work everyday, making the best of the weekends was only fair, right? But I hadn't gone out after coming home from the fancy dinner the night before, so my body felt rested enough to wake up at 8.

After failing at trying to will myself back to sleep, I made myself comfortable on the couch and turned on the TV. And then I remembered why I didn't mind sleeping in late too much on weekends: there was absolutely nothing to do in the morning. The shows on TV were either news broadcasts or creepy stuff aimed at children, and I was so not in the mood for either of those. Seriously, were kids even awake at this hour? If they were, I really pitied their parents.

It was times like these when I regretted not being a more sociable person. Then again, even if I had many friends I could call - which I really didn't -, I probably wouldn't dare to disturb them this early in the morning. I know _I'd_ be pretty pissed if some chick tried to call me at this hour just because she was bored.

So that left me with absolutely _nothing_ to do.

… Well… I could work on some papers I had to prepare for Monday… Nah.

What did people usually do when faced with the same problem? I almost felt like searching through Yahoo! Answers to find out, but the thought of browsing the internet on my slug of a computer made me nauseous.

So I decided to do something I absolutely never did. Ever.

I decided to go for a walk.

Well, I took the subway, too. But still.

Thankfully, it was a pretty nice day outside, and you could tell it would later on evolve into one of those sunny days that Hollywood loves to have accompany a happy couple on a date.

Central Park wasn't as empty as I'd expected it to be. Sure, by the time I got there, it was 9-something, but I didn't know so many people went for walks on Saturday mornings.

Not only adults, either. There were lots of families with children playing and running around, and if I didn't know better, I'd think there was some kind of event happening that had drawn them all.

I was walking randomly, leaving the paths to the jogging people, when a little girl ran right into me, slamming her head against my stomach with enough force to make me stumble back.

"S-sorry!" she stuttered, blushing cutely. Aww. I wasn't so big on children when all they could do was cry and get dirty, but I was okay with them when they were a little older. Not too older, though.

This particular brown-haired girl was especially cute, and looked positively mortified at what had just happened. I couldn't help but kneel down in front of her and smile.

"It's okay. Are you lost?"

She shook her head, finally looking up from her feet. Her eyes were big and blue and honest. But I guess all children looked like that, right? "I was trying to get the frisbee," she explained.

"Oh. Where is it?" I asked, looking around. I didn't see it.

"I don't know," the girl said.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Maddie," she told me.

"That's a pretty name," I smiled, hoping I didn't come off as patronizing. I hated when adults did that to children. "Do you want help looking for your frisbee?"

Her eyes widened before she nodded, smiling at me.

"Alright. Let's do this," I stood up again and looked around. "What color is it?"

"Yellow."

"Did you see which way it went?" I asked.

Maddie pointed towards the path I'd been avoiding. "Want to go look over there?" She nodded, her brown locks bouncing with the movement. I smiled. "Let's go, then."

I started walking towards where she'd pointed, and after taking a few steps, felt a warm hand wrap itself around mine. Looking down, I saw the girl had just taken my hand, and was looking at me as if to ask if that was okay.

I smiled down at her and continued walking.

Until we heard a screamed, "Maaaaaaddieeeeee!", and we both came to a stop, looking back to where the high-pitched scream had come.

A little boy was running in our direction, stopping right in front of us and pointing at me. "Who are you?" he asked. It sounded more like an accusation.

"My name is Bella," I said, using my nickname because it sounded more appropriate, "I'm helping Maddie find her frisbee."

"Hmph," the boy exhaled loudly, and put his hands on his hips impatiently. "You should've let me get it, Maddie."

"Is he your brother?" I asked the little girl, noting how their eyes were the exact same color despite his hair being a tad lighter than hers.

"Her _older_ brother," the boy nodded solemnly.

"We're twins," Maddie mumbled.

"Yeah, but I was born before!"

"Just by 5 minutes."

"Who cares?"

"So, guys," I said, wanting to prevent further discussion between the siblings, "Where's your mother?"

"At home," Maddie and her brother said in perfect unison. It was almost comical.

"You came here by yourselves?" I raised my eyebrows. What the hell was with parents these days? If I had kids, I wouldn't let them out of my sight!

"With the nanny..." Maddie said.

"But the only thing she does is talk on the phone with her boyfriend," the boy continued.

"She's playing with us, too!" the girl defended.

"No she's not."

"She threw the frisbee!"

"Yeah… But only this time. She never plays with us."

Ah… So the some teenager had figured that she'd get easy cash by babysitting some kids in the park and just leaving them to fend on their own, huh? I bet she'd thrown the frisbee far away on purpose. What a bitch…

"Let's go find this yellow frisbee then," I said. "Hey, kid, do you see it anywhere?"

"My name is Alfred, not kid!" he argued.

"Not my fault you hadn't told me before," I said, trying to hide my smile. "So do you see it or not?"

He shook his head. "Let's go look over there!" And he broke into a run.

Maddie started pulling on my hand, I knew she wanted to run after her brother. I really wasn't planning on doing anything besides walking a little, but… "Ah, what the hell," I mumbled, then started jogging after the boy. I saw Maddie smile widely as she ran with me, her faster pace forcing me to run to keep up.

"I found it, I found it!" Alfred was bouncing up and down when we reached him. Looking up to where he was pointing, I saw a hint of yellow between the leaves on a branch of a tree.

"I think it's too high up," I said, approaching the tree and reaching for the on my tiptoes. "Aargh! I can't do it!"

"Then jump!" the boy urged.

I turned and glared at him, but tried jumping anyways. I couldn't jump very high, though, and so it made little difference. "Got another plan, wise a— Alfred. Wise Alfred?"

"Ahahahahahaha, you were going to say ass, weren't you?" the boy laughed. It was contagious, and I did, too.

"Don't let your mama hear you say that," I told him.

"Bella?" I heard someone say. Uh-oh. I knew that voice. It couldn't be.

I turned around, and sure enough, Edward Masen stood there, holding a beat-up bicycle upright with his hand. He was wearing a brownish T-shirt and loose black pants, and taking off his sunglasses, squinted at me. He looked like he didn't believe his eyes.

"Edward," I greeted half-heartedly, giving a small wave. I turned back towards the tree, hoping against hope that he didn't come any closer.

Who was I kidding? I was well-aware that the possibilities of that were slim to none.

"What are you doing?" Edward asked, sounding like he was coming towards me.

"Not much," I replied.

"You're tall," Alfred said, pointing at Edward, who raised his eyebrows.

"Oh. Hi, I… Didn't see you there." He looked at me quizzically. "Who is this?"

"I'm Alfred and that's my sister Maddie. Bella was trying to get our frisbee for us, but she's kind of useless," the boy explained.

"Hey!" I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at the older twin. "Here I am, trying to do a good deed, and that's what I get in return?"

"He's kidding…" Maddie mumbled so softly I almost didn't hear her. She had taken my hand again, and was looking at Edward, her face as red as a tomato.

"Hey you," Alfred said again, addressing Edward. "What's your name?"

"Ah, um, Edward?"

"Are you asking me?"

"What?"

"Is that your name? Edward?"

"Yes."

"So don't make it sound like a question! Can you get our frisbee from the tree?" Alfred pointed at the spot I'd been trying to reach before. "Bella can't do it because she's too short."

"Look who's talking! You barely reach my waist!" I teased.

"I'm five!" he defended. "You're what, sixty?"

"Twenty-six!"

"Ha-ha, I'm small, but you're an old hag!" Alfred laughed. I rolled my eyes.

"You shouldn't say that," Edward said casually, "Age is a touchy subject for girls. You'll never get a girlfriend if you say stuff like that, you know."

Alfred seemed to consider it, then looked back and forth between Edward and I, gaze finally settling on Edward. "Is she your girlfriend?"

"Who— me? Pfft," I snickered. "You're crazy, kid. Now do you want your frisbee or not?"

"Yeah!" the boy said, and I felt Maddie nod against my hip.

"Leave it to me," Edward said, stepping towards the tree and looking up. "Ah, there it is." He reached up and, looking as if it were the easiest thing in the world, shook the high branch until the yellow frisbee fell to the ground. He picked it up and looked at Maddie, who was still hiding behind me and clutching my hand.

"There you go," he said gently, crouching down to her level and extending the frisbee towards her.

She slowly reached for the frisbee and took it from his hand, and when he smiled kindly at her, she blushed even redder and hid fully behind me, clutching the yellow plastic tightly to her chest.

Alfred took off running again, but stopped and turned around when he realized no one was following him. "Maddie, come on!" The little girl let go of my hand and ran towards her brother, who took her hand. Then the boy pointed at Edward and I, calling, "You too! Come play!", before he and his sister ran to the open field again.

For some reason, I followed. Edward was walking by my side, pulling his bike along.

"They're cute," Edward commented. "Who are they?"

"Dunno, just some random kids I came across," I shrugged. "They're here by themselves and their sitter is a slacker, apparently. What are you doing here?"

"I was riding when I saw you. Didn't recognize you at first," he said, "I didn't take you for a child-person."

"I'm not," I said.

The twins were throwing their yellow frisbee back and forth by the time we reached them, and ended up forcing us to play with them. Time flew by quicker than I'd expected, and I found myself getting annoyed at my hungry stomach. My watch told me it was almost 11 — more than time to get breakfast. Truthfully, I wanted to spend more time playing with the cute kids, and if I left to eat now, I probably wouldn't see them again.

The twins' babysitter was sitting under the shade of a tree reading a gossip magazine, and hadn't looked our way even once. It struck me how dangerous that was, and I had warned the children not to talk to strangers anymore, and to try to stick together as much as they could. They nodded, but hadn't seemed very worried — this wasn't the first time this had happened, I figured.

Edward was currently sprawled on the floor, trying to catch his breath while the kids ran around him and tried to pull him up again. Maddie had gotten over most her initial shyness after the first 15 minutes we'd spent playing, but the way she watched Edward made me think that maybe she had a little crush on him already. Not that I blamed her — the guy looked like a sex god — but it amused me to see how he had the same effect on all age groups.

I sat on the ground next to them and let my head fall back, looking up at the sky. I'd been right: it turned out to be a beautiful day, deep blue sky and all, with no clouds in the sky. The sun was warm, but the light breeze kept it from being uncomfortably hot. My kind of day.

When I opened eyes I hadn't realized I'd closed, I caught Edward staring at me. He didn't try to hide it, either, and I blushed in spite of myself. He smiled. I looked away and stood up.

"I should probably get going," I announced.

"Can we come too?" Alfred asked. I couldn't help but ruffle his hair. He batted my hand away, but was grinning as he tried to rearrange it.

"Sorry, kid, your mama wouldn't like that," I said.

Edward stood up too. "Yeah, I'm kind of hungry."

"Awww, both of you? Come on, it's still early! Let's play!" the boy pouted, nudging his sister, who copied his expression.

Edward and I laughed. "How about we meet again next weekend?" Edward offered.

"Yeah!" Alfred agreed enthusiastically. "You too, right, Bella?"

"Sure. Now why don't you guys go play next to… what's the babysitter called again?"

"Jessica Stanley," Maddie supplied.

"Right. Go play next to Jessica," I said.

"So we meet here again next week, okay? We'll wear the same clothes so you know us," Alfred said.

I laughed, "You don't need to do that. It's not like they're many brats like you around, you know."

"I'm not a brat!" Alfred complained.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. See ya," I spun around, just in time to feel something grip the back of my shirt. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Maddie had taken hold of both mine and Edward's shirts.

"Promise," she said.

"What?" I asked.

Edward crouched down and gave her his trademark smile. "We'll be here. If Bella doesn't want to come, I'll drag her. I promise."

She let go of us and we waved them goodbye. Edward grabbed his bike and pushed it along with us as we made our way out of the park.

"This was fun," he said. "They were really cute."

"Yeah."

"You were great with them."

"Hmm."

"Are you hungry?"

"Kind of," I admitted.

"I know of a place that serves a great brunch."

"Sounds good."

"Is it just me or are you not speaking so much anymore?" he asked, and when I glanced at him, I saw he was looking right back at me, his eyebrows furrowed.

I looked ahead again, and the sun rays slipping between the leaves of the trees around us shined uncomfortably bright in my eyes. I reached over and pulled Edward's sunglasses from where it hung on the collar of his shirt, slipping it on.

"It's just you."

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><p><strong>AN: Sorry for the original characters, I know not everyone likes when they're added.**

**Yay, we're almost at 150 reviews! How cool is that? ****_Very!_**** Thank you so much for your constant support despite my lousy excuses for updates.**


	13. IMPORTANT NOTICE

**Hi everyone. Sorry for the false alarm, but this is just an A/N.**

**As of June 4th, 2012, FF put up a notice against M rated fics, and although this might be just a bit of stretched truth, word is that they are removing all M rated fics and terminating accounts with stories depicting sex or violence. For that reason, I'm lowering the rating of my fics back to T, as the last thing I want to have is my account shut down and to lose all the lovely reviews you have sent me.**

**Please join the cause by writing FF an email at _support (a t) fanfiction . com_ and ask them to bring back the M/MA rating so that authors can be free from censure and have the freedom to write what they want to.**

**In the meantime, possible suggestions/themes/violence/language in all my fics will be toned down to a T rating. For the more explicit version of Bella the Vampire Slayer, you can check my YouTube account.**

**Thank you for your attention, and please take a moment to send FF an email and spread the word.**

**mandy.**


	14. Day 13, Part II

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys! I was glad to hear you didn't mind the OCs =u=**

_**Disclaimer:**_** Twilight is not mine!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 13<strong>

Edward ended up going to the restaurant he'd mentioned, and I found myself staring at him more than usual. If he noticed it, he didn't mention it.

"So do you do this often?" he asked, reaching across the table for something before hesitating and pulling his hand back.

"Do what?" I asked, then picked the salt up and offered it to him. "Want this?"

"No, it's alright," he smiled. I shrugged and set it down. "I mean, do you go to the park to play with children often?"

"I told you, I'm not a child person. I don't even go to the park like that," I replied, sipping my orange juice.

"So why'd you go today?"

"Woke up early and got bored out of my mind," I said, "That's what I get for going to bed so early yesterday."

"Ah, come on, you must've gone to sleep at what, one a.m.? Two? That's not that early," he argued.

"On a Friday night? It is for me."

"Oh, so you're the partying type," he chuckled. "I used to be like that, too."

I remembered what little I knew about Edward's past, about his mother abandoning him when he was 15 and about Emmett and Rosalie looking after him. "Back when you were going through 'hard times'?" I quoted him.

He laughed, if a little self-depreciatingly. "Yeah. My teen years were kind of bumpy, you could say."

"And now look where you are."

"Yeah," he sighed, smiling. "Look where I am."

We were just starting to fall into that silence that sometimes happened with us when he spoke again, his tone cheerful. "So, Bella, since we couldn't go out properly yesterday, want to do something today?"

"Um, I have somewhere I have to be at five," I said.

"Oh, that's right, you did say that. Isn't that kind of early for a date, though?" he said, smirking devilishly.

"I'm not going on a date!" I protested, shuddering at the thought of dating the ex-secretary Martha.

"In that case, can I come with you?"

"Of course not!" I said immediately, and his smile faltered a little. Feeling a little guilty, I sighed. "I'm sorry. I have… an appointment… with my… gynecologist," I lied.

"Oh. Oh!" he laughed and scratched the back of his head, looking embarrassed. "Of course. It would be weird if I went with you, then, right? Sorry for pushing."

"It's alright," I said, giving a mental sigh of relief.

"When're you getting out?"

"You sure are persistent, aren't you?" I gave an annoyed chuckle that I hoped he interpreted as a nervous one. He shrugged and nodded with a smile. "I was planning on going out tonight to make up for yesterday… If you want to come… I don't mind."

"Okay," he agreed immediately.

Although that would mean that I'd have to forsake my usual escapades.

"…Where? What time?" he continued.

Damn, what didn't I do for this stupid job? Another perfectly good night wasted…

"Bella?"

Unless…

"Hey, are you listening?"

I was brought back from my reverie when Edward reached across the table and shook my arm lightly. I looked up at him and saw his frown.

"Oh. Sorry. Yes, um… How about you call Emmett, too? I bet he doesn't go out much," I suggested, remembering how the older man looked at Edward. He'd make him company in case I suddenly disappeared in the club.

"Ah, Emmett. Yeah, sure… I'll give him a call." Edward seemed like he wanted to say something else, but he just looked down at the empty plate that had been filled with food.

I was acutely aware of how slutty I sounded — even to myself — planning on how I'd ditch a perfectly nice guy to go off with some stranger, but there was nothing I could do about it. If Edward offered to be my "stranger", I'd probably accept, even though it'd be inappropriate in so many levels. However, I didn't think that'd be happening any time soon.

As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I gave myself a mental slap. Edward was not "a perfectly nice guy," but rather a "seemingly perfectly nice guy who really doesn't give a shit about anyone else besides himself." He was not perfect, and he would never be another stranger to me. He was off-limits.

That didn't stop me from wanting him to be, though.

"You done eating? Can we go?" I asked.

Edward nodded, taking a few bills from his wallet and leaving them on the table before standing up. I raised an eyebrow at the large tip he was leaving, but stood up after him. He held the door open for me and I stepped outside.

"Well, I still have time until I have to leave for my appointment," I said, "Want to go back to the park?"

"Yeah." He retrieved his BMX bicycle and mounted it. "Want a ride?"

"Uh, I don't think it's… made for two people," I said, eyeing the its beaten down state.

"So what?" he grinned, "I'll even let you have the seat. I don't need it." He leaned back so he was standing on the pedals instead of sitting down on the seat. "I bet you've never done anything like this before. Come on," he motioned me closer with an arm.

"Ah, what the hell," I mounted the bike, sitting down on the seat in front of Edward. I grabbed the inside part of the handlebars just as he reached around me for them, and just like that, he took off.

I couldn't help but tense as we flew down the street. My hair whipped around me as Edward expertly maneuvered the bike, occasionally dodging passersby and other obstacles. I heard him laugh contentedly behind me as he alternated between pushing against the pedals and leaning forward until he was almost towering over me. I tilted my head back as much as I dared and my breath caught at what I saw.

Edward was no doubt one of the most beautiful men I'd ever seen, but at that moment, with the little sun that streamed in from between the tall buildings of New York shining brightly on his face and almost reflecting off his impossibly green eyes, he was no doubt _the most beautiful sight_ I'd ever seen. Cheesy metaphors aside, he looked years younger, like a kid unwrapping a huge Christmas gift.

"Amazing, isn't it?" he called, not slowing down or taking his eyes off the route. We broke free from the buildings and reached the edge of the park, but he didn't stop, just turned so we were riding round the park on the bike path.

I wanted to say something, wanted to agree, wanted to say _he_ was amazing,but my mouth wouldn't move from it's agape state. My stomach clenched uncomfortably and I suddenly felt sick.

The first word that came from my mouth was a very desperate, "_STOP!_"

The bike immediately came to a halt and I was shoved forward with the suddenness of it. The bike swerved to the left sharply and went crashing down. We hit the ground, and I pushed away from arms that had cushioned my fall to crawl away and barely make it in time to puke out the contents of my recent meal onto the grass. My heaving only worsened when I felt warm hands gently pull my hair back from my face.

"Are you okay?" I heard him, but I couldn't respond. Couldn't turn to face him. I just remained on my hands and knees, eyes squeezed shut.

"Is she okay?" I heard a female voice ask from somewhere off to the side.

"Yeah… Just a little motion sickness, I think. Thanks," Edward replied.

"Here, have this. It'll make her feel better," the lady said. A moment later, a cool bottle of mineral bottle was pressed to the side of my face. I sat back and gratefully took it from Edward's hand, sipping it carefully in case my stomach protested again.

I drank as much as I dared before recapping the bottle with shaky hands and handing it back to Edward without looking up. I heard him thank the lady, but she told him I could keep the bottle.

"Are you okay? You should get that checked," the lady said. I jerked back and finally looked at Edward.

While I only had a scrapped palm to attest to our fall, Edward had obviously taken most of the blow when he'd cushioned my fall earlier. There was blood oozing all the way from his left cheek to underneath his hair, where his copper strands were matted and darkened with more blood.

"Oh fucking shit," I gasped, my hands flying to his shoulders. "Edward! You're bleeding!"

"I'm sorry."

"Your head is bleeding!" I repeated.

"It's my fault. Are you okay?"

"Who cares about me? You have to go to the hospital!"

"You really should. Take care of him, young lady. And be more careful next time, kids," the lady who had helped us said, but I didn't look away from Edward as I heard her ride off.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I got excited, wanted to show off, and ended up making you sick. I'm such an idiot. I'm so sorry," Edward's hand clutched the left side of his chest as he panted his apology. He looked awfully pale.

"Edward, we're going to the hospital. Right now. Come on," I stood up and pulled him up when he hesitated.

"No—wait," he protested, still panting, and lay his free hand against the trunk of a tree while the other still clutched at his chest. "Give… me—" He suddenly moved behind the tree and out of my sight.

O-kay. Just how hard had he hit his head? I frowned concernedly and went around to see what had happened to him, and found Edward shoving something into his pocket and gulping down the water the lady had given me.

"Edward? You okay?"

"Yes, I—sorry. Wait… please."

I observed as his breathing eventually slowed down his grip on his shirt slacked. After a few moments, he finally looked up at with with an apologetic smile.

"What was that?" I asked. He shrugged. "Panic attack?"

"Something like that," he spoke after a moment. "I'd better get going now, my head kind of hurts."

I was silent as he pushed away from the tree and approached me. "Yeah. Let's get you to the hospital," I finally agreed.

"You should stay. You have somewhere to be, right? Who knows how long this'll take?" he said, pointing to his bloody left temple. "And don't worry, I won't be riding my bike there."

I nodded carefully, eyeing his wound. "Are you really okay, Edward?"

"Yeah. Just a little cut, that's all. Brought it upon myself." His tone suddenly sobered and he reached to stroke the side of my face with the back of his fingers. I tensed, then relaxed, letting myself just feel his gentle touch. "I'm sorry."

I shook my head. "It's not your fault I'm a wuss."

He smiled and moved away, uprighting his bike. "Argh, what am I supposed to do with you now?"

"I can watch over it," I offered. He looked up curiously. "I can take it to my meeting and keep an eye on it for you, if you want. You can come get it when you're back."

"I think I'll take you up on that offer," he laughed a little. "Thank you, Bella."

"No problem. Now get yourself to the ER already."

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><p>After parted ways when Edward got into a cab, I rolled his bike towards my meeting place with Martha. I'd initially planned on going back to my apartment before meeting with her, but there was no way I could do that now with Edward's bike.<p>

I didn't regret it, though. It was the least I could do for him after the little accident I'd just caused. Thinking about it made me feel a little sick again, so I just pushed those thoughts aside.

I tried walking as slowly as I could to the Rockefeller Center, but it wasn't very far, so it didn't take as long as I'd hoped it did. I still had quite some time before I had to meet Martha, so I stopped and had a burger to fill my once again empty stomach.

Charles Masen's ex-secretary arrived at our meeting place at 5 o'clock on the dot, and I knew that because I recognized her immediately. I was idly sitting down on a bench, holding Edward's bike upright, when I saw a prim, middle-aged lady, stop and look around. I stood up and approached her carefully.

"Excuse me, ma'am, are you Martha Summers?"

"Yes." She raised her eyebrows and took in my unkempt state. "Don't tell me _you're_ that journalist?"

"Yes, Isabella Swan. It's nice to finally meet you," I greeted, extending my hand politely. She looked down at it dismissively, not even trying to hide her aversion to the throughout of shaking my hand. I dropped it to my side. "Would you like to sit down somewhere so we can talk properly, Mrs. Summers?"

"Hmph. I don't know how worthy of my while this will turn out to be, but that is fine. This way, Ms. Swan."

She turned her back on me and started walking off, I followed her. I was throwing mental daggers at her exposed back when Martha suddenly stopped and turned around.

"And I suggested you get rid of that… thing. They are not admitted inside where we are headed."

"Oh, that's quite alright, thank you for the warning."

She huffed and resumed walking. I merely rolled my eyes as I followed behind, hoping no one noticed I was walking with the old hag.

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><p><strong>AN: Just a reminder — reviews are really, **_**really**_** appreciated~**


	15. Day 13, Part III

**A/N: So here is the latest update in the history of updates. If you're not just reading this now, I ****_highly_**** encourage you to go back and reread the entire thing before carrying on, especially because this picks off right after the last update ends. There are a few underlying points you might not pick up on if the context of the story isn't fresh on your mind. Or so I like to think.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 14 <strong>

Martha Summers ended up leading us to a coffee shop, and from what I could see through the windowed storefront, it was filled with other prim and proper old ladies. I told her I couldn't walk into a place like that with a bike, and that we should head somewhere with outside seats, but she insisted.

"You're the one who wants an interview, not me. If I'm doing this at all, I'm doing this my way," the old hag told me. I suppressed the urge to launch myself on her and stick my fingers in her eyes or something.

"I understand," I smiled, not even caring if I sounded convincing or not. "I guess I'll just leave it out here, then, and hope it's still here when we're done."

"Who's want that old piece of metal?" she scoffed, heading inside the shop.

"This is why I hate old people," I hissed, propping Edward's bike against the brick wall of the place, "They think they can get away with anything."

Thankfully, the woman had sat down on one of the tables next to the windows, so I was able to keep an eye on the bike from inside.

She ordered some fancy cappuccino from the menu and I just got myself a cup of regular coffee, so I had something to distract me from how much I disliked her.

"So, Mrs. Summers," I started when we were all settled down, pulling my notepad from my bag, "You'd worked for Masen Developers for 5 years before they let you go, correct?"

"I wasn't _let go_," she scoffed, as if the mere idea was ridiculous, "I _chose_ to quit when I heard that that brat was taking over."

"Hm. Edward Masen, I see. What was it about his taking over that drew such a reaction from you?" I asked, then, out of spite, added, "Was it the thought of having a boss decades younger than yourself?"

"No, it was not," she gritted out, and I decided to tone down my mockery. She was my only lead, I couldn't screw this up. "He's just clearly unsuited for the position, and I refuse to associate myself with a company run by the likes of him."

"Why is he unsuited to run his family's company?" I asked.

"I've known that kid for years, and he was always getting into trouble. His father had to bail him out of jail more than a couple of times, and that ingrate brat never even showed interest in the company, how dare Charles think I'd be willing to work for that delinquent…"

"Hold on," I told her, stopping her mid-rant. She sure had lots of pent-up feelings regarding this, and was probably dying to badmouth them to me. I finished jotting down what she was saying and looked at her again. "He used to get arrested frequently?"

"Yes. That kid got into more than a few fights, and is probably still a crackhead. I wouldn't put it past him to have killed people, either."

"Edward Masen is a drug addict?" I frowned, not sure if I believed her. I knew people who did drugs, and if Edward's healthy looks and liveliness were anything to go by, he wasn't one of them. There was that little panic attack thing earlier in the park, but I didn't see how that could possibly be connected…

"Well, he's never been caught doing them, but this young generation is a lost cause, they all seem to be on drugs," Martha waved off. I drew a line over the drug note I'd scribed down on my pad.

"So he was arrested for getting into fights. Bar fights, or..?"

"Yeah, that kid went out even all the time, always getting drunk and high and wrecking havoc in everyone's lives."

"I heard he's got a Julliard diploma, though?"

"Well. He did settle down for a while when he went away to school," she allowed. "He was probably causing the same kind of trouble there, we just didn't know about it."

"Hm. Isn't it normal for teenagers to get into trouble? Was it really bothering you so much that you'd let go of a good job at a good company just because of that?" I raised an eyebrow.

"You're missing the point, girl," Martha shook her head impatiently, "That hooligan can't suddenly run an entire company."

I nodded, deciding to go for another line of questioning. "So, I know you'd only worked for MD for 5 years, meaning most of what you know about Edward Masen's teenage delinquency you probably heard from someone else. Is that right?"

"Yes," she replied after a moment's hesitation, "But if you're saying that these things could be just rumors—"

"I'm not saying that, Mrs. Summers," I forced a smile and lowered my pen from my notepad. "Why would I be talking to you if I were? I'm not on their side. I'm a journalist, I can't help but ask questions."

"Hmph," she uncrossed her arms and seemed to relax slightly in her chair. "Yes. A lot of what I know were rumors that spread at the time."

"Can you tell me about those rumors?" I prompted, skipping a few lines in my pad at pressing the ballpoint to the paper eagerly.

"Well, as you know, the Masen lady left back when the kid was in high school—"

"No, no I don't know about that. What happened to her?" Edward had told me she'd left when he was a teenager, but it couldn't hurt to see what Martha knew.

"I didn't care enough to ask for details," Martha said, flicking her hair away from her face with manicured fingers, "But Charles Masen was always saying it was the brat's fault. You know the kid is bad when not even his parents like him."

I grimaced as I wrote down what she was saying. "Why would Masen think she left because of Edward? Was it because he got in trouble often?"

She snorted, and when I looked up I realized it was actually an ugly laugh. "Actually, he only started getting in trouble after that. With no one to hold him on a leash, he let his true colors show."

"Wait… But if he only got into trouble after his mother left, how could he have caused it?"

Martha arched an eyebrow, "Do I look like Charles Masen to you? She probably got tired of taking care of him all the time, I don't know. Brat couldn't do anything on his own."

"Um, didn't she leave when he was 15? How much babying could he possibly need?" I asked.

She crossed her arms over her chest again, "I never said how old he was when she left."

"Ah, um, yeah. Edward Masen mentioned that briefly once," I told her.

"Why are you wasting my time then?" she rolled her eyes. It was extremely unattractive.

"Sorry. So, what were you saying about Edward not doing things on his own?" I prompted, honestly getting tired of the woman's stuck-up attitude. For someone who constantly called Edward a brat, she was more than a little bratty herself.

"Are you close to that kid?" she asked, completely ignoring me.

"Not really. So, Mrs. Summers, returning to our topic—"

"Is this whole interview thing a practical joke, girl? Because I don't have time for this kind of thing."

"No, not at all, ma'am. I'm trying to gather as much information as possible on him for my article, so I'm sorry if my questions are overwhelming—"

"What is there to write about that kid anyways?" she asked, effectively cutting me off again. I have to say, this woman was close to getting to my last nerve.

"I'd rather not disclose too much just yet, but we're looking into one of the contracts Masen Developers has been working on—"

"And what does that have to do with the Masen family history? I know where this is going, and you know what I think? I think you're just some prying, obsessed stalker who wants to know everything about that little piece of—"

"Okay, thanks for your time," I said, standing up from my chair and reaching in my bag for a few bills to drop on the table. Leaving behind what was left of my coffee, I exited the shop as quickly as I could.

Only to find Edward's bike missing from the spot I'd left it. Fuck, I'd totally forgotten to keep an eye on it from inside! I looked around, but it was no where to be seen. I walked to the alley between the shop and the next building, but it wasn't there either. Obviously.

"Fuck! It's gone!"

"Well, what did you expect, dear? It _is_ New York we're talking about," Martha said, apparently having exited the coffee shop as well while I looked for the bike. I swear the bitch was smirking as she said it.

"Whatever happened to 'who'd want that piece of shit'?" I snapped at her. Her jaw dropped at my tone, which had been polite and submissive before. Who cares if I was rude now? I already had what I wanted from her. "Farewell, _Martha Summers_, have a nice rest-of-your-life. However long that'll be, anyways."

And so I walked away, leaving a shell-shocked Martha Summers behind.

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><p>Walking back the way I'd come, the absence of Edward's bike weighing more than the actual shitty old thing had, I let myself think about what I'd learned from Martha. I'd definitely been hoping for more, but I have to admit she did say some things I hadn't expected at all.<p>

So apparently goody two shoes Edward Masen had been something of a troublemaker in his teen years. Nothing too special, I guess, but that the ever-so polite guy with the Julliard diploma and an army of female worshippers had been a delinquent at some point was really... unexpected. Martha did say it'd only started after his mother left, though, so I guess there's some connection there that a psychologist could draw. It wasn't too hard, really— the kid probably wanted some attention from his remaining parent.

Which brought me to another thing that had confused me: why exactly would Charles say— and from how Martha said it, make no secret of— that he thought Edward was the reason his wife had left? I don't know, maybe that was normal with fleeing parents, but I didn't remember my father blaming _me_ for my own mother's disappearance. Ah, the last thing I should be doing was comparing Edward to myself, what the hell.

I guess that was the reason why Edward and his father had a bad relationship, then? It might not be that Edward didn't _want_ to visit his father, but that his father didn't want him to visit. Maybe it was both. This kind of made me wonder why Charles had given Edward the company in the first place. He could've sold it— with how it was growing, I'm sure there'd be plenty of offers— or even let Emmett manage it— he was CFO already, and seemed to be doing a pretty decent job at it for quite a while.

Hmm. Emmett. He would probably provide a good way to know more about the situation. From what I knew, he was around Edward for a pretty long time, and surely knew everything there was to know about him. He was single, too, so maybe I could get close to him that way...

Somehow, the thought of doing anything with the burly guy in _that way_ made me uneasy. He was attractive, sure, but something about him just didn't sit right with me. Sometimes I got the distinct impression he didn't like me very much.

Pulling my phone out, I dialed Jasper's number. I had to tell him what Martha had told me; maybe he'd know what to make of it. One way or the other, the spyware drive he'd gotten us would give us a better chance of writing a good article on Masen Developers than knowing about Edward's shadowy past.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Nothing too long, but I wanted this to wrap up here. So now that I've given you this belated chapter I can finally talk. **

**Wow. I never expected to get so many replies— let alone so quickly. I'm really surprised so many people were enjoying this! I understand how annoying reading a WIP only to find out it's been dropped is, and taking into account just how many people I'd be doing that to made me decide that yes, I will continue working on this. Don't expect updates that come so quickly, though; as I said, this was already halfway done when I broke the silence yesterday.**

**Thank you so much for your unwavering support! It's so humbling to see how loyal you guys are.**

**Since I can't directly reply to guests:**

Guest1: I actually considered deleting this from ff. And, had I not decided to complete it, I probably would, to spare people the annoyance.

Guest2: I understand— mind you, I'd do the exact same thing in your place. Thank you for letting me know you're interested, though!

Shinx1912: Your message was wonderful, thank you so much. You're definitely right, it's silly to abandon this because I'm not part of the fandom anymore, and yes, having it all planned out and not typing it out kills me. Yes, I started working on this back when I was starting to lose interest in Twilight, and the differences between this fic and the series reflect that. As lame as it may sound, I genuinely _like_ writing these characters, and I have too much in store for them to simply not flesh it out.

Guest3, Guest4, Guest5: Thanks for the support, guys, I really appreciate it. Guest5, lol, kpop is actually what's been taking up a lot of my free time lately, and Super Junior is one of the main fandoms I've moved to. It's nice to see there's another kpop fan all the way here!

Edwardsbabe: Thank you so much, dear! It's quite nice to be back!

**Thanks for sticking with me, everyone! Guests, if you'd like, you can pick a name other than Guest so I can reply to you over here next time as well and not make it confusing with numbers :) See you you all in the next update!**


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